The Undertaking of Life
by DreadingTheDayWhenYou'reGone
Summary: A witch that fell in love, simply, with the idea of twins—people that had mischief together, and always acted as a pair, and were always, no matter what, Fred and George, the duo—of having a mother that cooked food and washed dishes with barely looking at the tasks, and of being with people that liked her. (More summary inside)
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: ****A witch that fell in love, simply, with the idea of twins—people that had mischief together, and always acted as a pair, and were always, no matter what, Fred and George, the duo—of having a mother that cooked food and washed dishes with barely looking at the tasks, and of being with people that liked her. A witch that had a father, but there was always a small missing fragment that she never quite understood or found until making friends**.

**And my Harry Potter fic comes to life after so long! This hasn't been thought out as greatly as a few I am already working on (i.e. my Young Justice one like man that one), but I plan on keeping it as happy as possible, only dwelling on sadness in the last book and during Claire's fourth year at school, along with a few bits around her fifth. I hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the copyright of Harry Potter, and, therefore, only write with the gaining of joy from words, not money.**

* * *

Her first year at Hogwarts was bland, only broken by the small burst of excitement a pair of twins gave her when they extracted the young girl from the Common Room couch. Claire would be lying if she said she regretted taking that feather from Charms class, or that she didn't find her small adventure exciting.

The fluttering of a feather up in the air, boosted by the wave of a wand and quiet, was followed by almost nonexisting whispers of, "Wingardium Leviosa." A simple task to keep Claire's mind clear of school tasks that she was ignoring.

That simple task of waving her wand was shattered by a hand, shooting out from nowhere and catching the feather, pinching it with two fingers easily. A face with freckles and flaming red hair moved into her vision. The face asked, "Did you steal that feather from Charms class?" The head twisted the feather between his fingers as if he was amused. Claire moved to sit up on the couch, turning to see a second head, identical down to the last freckle, standing on the other side of the couch.

"I think she did, Fred," the other said, brown eyes flickering over to the one called Fred.

"Must we report a First Year to Professor Flitwick?" Fred questioned.

"I think stealing requires the Headmaster's attention, don't you?"

"Hmm..." Fred tapped a finger on his chin, feigning deep thought, before finishing. "Where would the fun be in that?"

"True. But doesn't the girl need punishing for her crime?" Fred shook his head, twisting the feather in his fingers absentmindedly.

"Hmm...what to do, what to do."

"Shouldn't we give the poor girl back her stolen feather?" A few moments passed of Fred twisting the stolen item and examining it, as if he was weighing the value of the object. All the while, Claire didn't move, didn't stand in defiance to get the light object back from the Second Years; she just watched as the two exchanged glances. She'd even dropped her wand on the floor from the initial arrival of the boys.

"I don't see any fun in that, actually, George."

"You're right, Fred."

"Should we give the First Year a tour of the castle, then?"

Her voice came out weak, almost as if it wasn't really being used. "I don't think that would be fun."

The twins looked at her, a bit surprised that she was speaking. "She speaks?"

"Of course I speak!" she exclaimed, moving to grab the feather from Fred. She was too slow, and he only grinned down at her. Claire was glad that everyone else was at lunch or in the library, because if anyone was here, watching this spectacle, she'd be as red as the apple she ate at breakfast.

"So you don't want to see the secret tunnels?" George offered, eyes looking down at her while she still sits on the couch.

"What do you mean secret tunnels?"

"Exactly what he says. I bet you didn't know that there were secret tunnels all over this school." That was Fred, but she didn't know how she could tell them apart.

"Well, I know that the stairs change and you can get lost easily," Claire replied, and she didn't realize how stupid that sounded until it fell off her lips.

"First Years! George, I tell you, all First Years have no sense of fun _or _direction!" Fred nearly yelled, turning around and putting his arms in the air. The two turned toward the door, signaling their goodbye without a word, and were halfway to it when she grabbed her wand and climbed the sofa to run in front of them.

The corridor was narrow, and she wondered how she had squeezed around the two so fast, but the thought was lost as she said, "I'll go. I mean, I want to go." The wand was tight in her hand. Upon realizing that, she slipped it into her robes.

"You're going to miss class."

"Could get caught too." One of the two grinned at that, but she shook her head.

"I don't care."

"You're not getting your feather back," Fred stated, and said feather was already gone, probably hidden in the boy's robes.

"I don't care about that either." The feather was just a ploy to busy her mind while everyone was away and her homework finished, anyway. And the fact that she was going to miss class was lost on the endless corridors and halls and dodging of teachers that the twins inevitably promised.

"The map, George?"

"The map, Fred." They almost said it together, but she noticed the small nod George gave, the nod that he did have this map and that they were going to use it to guide them, or so she thought, because she never actually saw them take it out beside passing it around. Claire almost asked about the map, but thought better of it. George handed said mysterious map to Fred, who nodded and they whisked in front of her and she followed like a dog trailing behind its owner.

"What's your name?" George finally asked as they walked through the eerily quiet halls and down twisting staircases.

"Claire."

"George." And he placed his hand in front of him for her to shake. She took it hesitantly, but still shook his big hand. "That's Fred."

"I noticed." Silence. "What year are you two?" The two continue walking when she asked the question, and she struggled to keep up with their long legs.

"Seconds." That one was Fred instead of George, and she wondered why they acted so fluidly together, like they were the same being. Their walk resembled each others too. _How strange_.

But she realized they were twins and that was to happen. Anyway, the adventure of this weird map and the long corridor they were now in overwhelmed the fact that they were twins. They were on the fifth floor now, swooping down hall after hall and she pondered where they were going. But, before she could open her mouth to ask the question, they stopped in front of a statue of Gregory the Smarmy. He was a potion maker and wiggled his way into King Richard's court and stole money, or something like that; she couldn't exactly remember all the details she read about him.

"What are we doing?" Claire questioned.

"Secret tunnel."

"We found it our first week of school."

"With the map?" she asked again.

"With_out _the map," Fred said, and she remembered it was him because he stood in front of the trio, fiddling with something behind the statue. "Wanna go?" He pointed the question at her, because yeah, Fred and George wanted to go. They were always up for an adventure. But her? She didn't know. An adventure was all new in a sense to her. Adventure was fighting monsters in her backyard at age six. Adventure was leaving the Common Room with two strange Second Years and following them down a series of corridors that were all a blur.

Adventure was nodding at this redheaded boy and stepping first into the narrow corridor. Adventure was this and she accepted it wholly and ready for whatever lay down the hall.

* * *

Nobody said anything as Claire lead the way down the long tunnel, and she was sure they'd left her if not for the footsteps they made. Quiet. It was too quiet in this hall. She didn't dare say anything, and was sure it was a dead end before she came up to a door. A door that was cold and wet and she wished she'd brought her gloves.

"Push," one of the twins said, and she followed the order. And she pushed against the wet door until the first streak of light from something besides their wands fell upon the ground. And then snow. Snow fell into the hall and splatted onto her shoes. The blonde didn't jump back in surprise because there was no real surprise needed.

"It lead outside," she murmured, because that hall was definitely long enough to lead outside. And the stairs they took down in the hall felt long enough that they made it to the ground floor.

"Cool, huh?"

"Cool, yeah," she breathed, her breath misting in front of her. She turned to look at the twins, one of whom was smiling and the other whom was leaning against the moist wall. And she pulled the door shut when the command came and followed the two back up the stairs.

When they emerged from the tunnel, people billowed around the halls, talking about classes and what they planned to do for the coming holidays. When Claire turned around to say something to the twins, they were gone, and the smile they gave her when she opened the door burned in her mind. She couldn't help but grin herself, and made her way back toward Gryffindor Tower to gather her things for her next class.


	2. Chapter 2

**So maybe one more adventure in Claire's first year, toward the end, and then it's off to the summer and the second year, where Harry Potter comes in! Woah!**

* * *

It took Claire a week after her initial first meeting with the twins to talk to them again. It wasn't her that actually made contact, but George, or was it Fred. Either one, she was glad they did. She was just reviewing a letter from her father at breakfast, alone, eyes trained on words, when they arrived, sliding in next to her on both sides.

Claire jumped noticeably, not expecting anyone besides Nathan to bother her at breakfast, but he was doing his Charms homework that wasn't due until Tuesday, and Claire didn't feel like she needed to do it quite yet, deciding to think of her father.

The redheads laughed at her start, and she set the letter down, thinking of punching them in the arm because of scaring her.

"That was a nice idea, George."

"I couldn't agree more," George replied, leaning forward on the table to high five his brother.

An older redheaded boy appeared, face lined with freckles. He glanced at the two twins, as if knowing what they were going to do to the poor First Year, paused and stated, "Leave the First Year alone, you two."

"Ah boo, Percy!" the one on her right shouted, laughing at him. They made no plan to follow their brother's guidelines, and they were pretty sure Percy knew it too.

"Who's that?" Claire asked once he was gone, watching as he walked through the Great Hall and out.

"One of the lamest-"

"-most boring characters of all time-"

"-our brother, Percy." They talked in almost perfect sync, and Claire was in awe of this, but did her best to hide the emotion from her face. It had been a week since she last saw them, however she still remembered how they walked and acted as one unit, like a pair, together.

It wasn't until later on in her life when she would learn that she took that for granted, that she missed out on it when she needed it the most, but that part isn't upon her yet.

Right now it is the beginning of a wonderful friendship of happiness and jokes and secret tunnels and redheads and fun.

She couldn't wait.

And neither could the twins.

"What's that?" the one on her left asked, gesturing to the letter she had almost forgotten about. He grasped it, glancing over it briefly and then passing it to George. "Someone's writing a letter!"

"This isn't going to be like the feather again, is it?" she questioned, watching as the other took it and read through it swiftly.

"You mean this feather!" And she knew it was Fred because he took possession of her stolen feather. He got up, and George followed, the letter folded away in his pockets somewhere.

"Yes, that feather." Claire couldn't help the grin that spread across her face, couldn't help but stand too, breakfast unfinished, and followed the two as they began to make their way out of the room.

People watched the trio leave, but didn't ask questions.

They almost all knew about the twins and their mischief. Though the girl was new to them.

The twins took the stairs two at a time, racing up and up and up. Claire traced close behind, her legs short and only climbing one at a time but still able to keep up for a short while. "Come on guys!" she shouted, voice echoing.

The paintings chastised her, and probably Fred and George too, but she waved them off, continuing her chase. One of them laughed, amused by the feather chase that continued around the tower.

"You have to catch us first!" one yelled down. They were already a full flight above her, pausing for just a moment to wave the feather down like some kind of handkerchief. Grins were upon all their faces, fighting against the need for air in their lungs, but still present.

And then the staircase began to move. And the twins began to climb as she chased up, hoping to get to them before it left her stranded on a different path. But she failed, watching up in vain as the boys clung to the railing for support as they watched her twist around, looking for the staircase that linked with theirs but not finding it.

"Seriously guys!" she shouted at them, knuckles white against the railing.

Fred brandished the feather in the air like it was a sword, almighty and the cause of his winning, as if he just slain the great evil Voldermort himself. George smiled, the letter next to the feather now. Together, they looked like they could fall easily out of their hands, floating down and down into oblivion.

Claire feared that they would, that the letter from her father would be drifting in the corridors forever. But both items disappeared in pockets as Fred said, "We'll see you in the Common Room later!"

And they ran up the stairs, up up up and gone, until Claire stared at paintings that looked back at her, waiting for the staircase to return to its position.

It took five minutes or more, and the hall stayed abandoned. She knew class started soon, that she had double potions with Professor Snape and he would kill her if Claire missed the class _again_, but she ignored it and ran up the stairs toward the Gryffindor Common Room, hoping that they were both actually there and not playing with her.

Finally, out of breath and excited, Claire said the password, something along the lines of "dilligrout," and the Fat Lady swung open, revealing the hearth still warm, burning as long as someone was in the room.

Nathan was there, looking up at his friend and standing from the table he was sitting at. "How was breakfast?"

_Breakfast? _she thought. "It was good. You missed out on something though." Claire moved to sit next to the brunet, telling the morning's events to him.

"They stole something from you _again_?" Nathan asked, angered by the playful act Claire held.

"It was just a letter," Claire stated, defending the twins for some unknown reason.

"But it was yours."

"It's okay. I remember all that my dad said. It doesn't bother me."

"Just because it doesn't bother you doesn't mean it's right."

"I never said it was right, I was just saying it didn't bother me."

"And I'm just saying that those twins are nothing but trouble. They have that blasted map of theirs and are always planning some prank or another."

Claire still didn't know what that map was or why they had it, but it was nagging at her mind, way back there and now that he brought it up she wanted to know more.

She'd have to ask Fred or George when she saw them next, hopefully soon.

"What's so bad about a little prank?"

"Yeah, what's so bad about a little prank?" a voice said from behind them, which caused Claire to jump yet again, involuntarily grasping onto Nathan's left arm.

Fred and George stood behind them, cloaks on and ready for class.

"Jesus, when did you get there?" Nathan asked, not moving Claire's hand.

"A few moments ago," one of them answered.

"But you never answered _our _question." Claire assumed it was Fred, but it was a guess. He loomed closer to Nathan, glaring at him. "What's so bad about a little prank?"

"It escalates?" Nathan offered; for some reason he was scared, scared of these two.

"Exactly!"

"Though I wouldn't call that bad, would you Fred?"

"No-"

"-never."

"I'd call it great thinking. Because small things,-"

"-as we know,-"

"-escalate into great things!"

They both seemed excited about this realization, and Claire was too. But Nathan's reaction didn't follow that line. His was somewhere along the these-people-are-bordering-crazy or something like that.

He collected his things, placing them in his bag, and turned to Claire. "We have to go to Potions."

"And that must mean we have to go to Charms?" George pouted, though a smile was across his face.

Nathan grabbed Claire's hand, as she grinned at George. Her bag sat next to the desk, placed there before she went on her adventure at breakfast, and she grabbed it. "I'll see you two later, okay?"

The twins nodded, but Claire never saw it as the painting swung into place, cutting them off for another few days, waiting for the next meeting to arrive.


	3. Chapter 3

**Another chapter! Yay! I can't wait to get into the later years, mostly because I have a lot of plans for it. The twins just make me really happy.**

* * *

With great ease, Claire flew through the rest of her first year watching, laughing, and simply enjoying the comfort of the twins. Claire struggled to follow their pranks, to keep up with their long legs, to catch their words, at first. But, as time went by and the half of the year that was left, she understood. Not only their words and pranks and speed, but their way of thinking. Their laughs and smiles and looks of meaning.

It may have took her some time, along with less time spent with uptight Nathan and his warnings of, "You shouldn't hang out with those two" or "You're going to get in trouble because of them," but she finally found her place between the two. Fred and George certainly liked having her around too, if not for her being part lacky and part friend in the beginning. The role of being their lacky slipped away near the ending of the year, after numerous pranks thought of by the First Year, including the tripping of Professor Snape on the vanishing step in a long chase.

On the last day of her rather eventful first year, Claire ate and rejoiced with the thought of returning to her father after almost a year of not seeing him. The idle letters she received over the year burned a pocket in her trunk, all packed and waiting.

The only downfall was not seeing Fred and George throughout the summer, hardly even talking to them maybe. She dreaded not having any contact after all the fun and pranks they had together over the year.

But her doubts were pushed down with reassurance from the two, along with suggestions from the two's older brothers that Claire could come over—"Anytime," Charlie told her once, a smile across his face and then he was gone.

Nathan, though she didn't speak to him as much as she did in the beginning of the year, when she was alone and confused and hadn't met the twins, spoke to her whenever the twins were absent, staying as her potions partner and sitting next to Claire in every class. They shared addresses with that little sliver of hope that they would still be friends in the coming years, and went on their ways.

On the train, the trio of pranksters passed their addresses and candy about, along with smiles. Their smiles and laughs echoed throughout the cart, jokes handed out like pieces of candy from the trolley, filling their mouths with happiness and warmth.

Smiles blinded her mind, leaking into the future especially, when all that was left was tears and death, sadness. So, unknowingly, Claire grasped upon brown eyes and freckles and fiery hair for the life of her.

And, when the train came to a stop at London, Claire and the twins stayed on the train for a few extra moments, watching, enjoying the brushing of the crowd of witches and wizards all hidden in Muggle clothes, all blending in with regular humans.

Through the crowd, though, bright red hair gave away the Weasley's, while a blond headed man gave away the Stevens'.

The rejoicing from the feast continued on when the trio escaped the hold of the students. The meeting family members held everyone, of two siblings—a Ginny and a Ron—and the hugging of a mother—"Molly, call me Molly."

And Claire did. Always called her Molly. She shook hands with the father, though she couldn't remember his name for the life of her, and smiled up at him.

Then, suddenly, with briskness and the warmth of a new body, she was enveloped.

"Dad!" was her reply, though it was lost in the folds of his jacket. She knew that smell, knew that flower that rubbed against her nose, knew the faint smell of smoke.

Claire was released with a mussing of her hair and laughing. The laughing came from Fred and George, who gripped their luggage carts to keep themselves from falling. Their father was gone, along with Percy and Charlie, she noted.

"You must be the twins Claire's written about so famously," her father stated, taking notice of the giggling boys.

"More like infamously," one of them replied, grinning at the man and nodding. Claire smiled, too, out of habit, and Molly's face broke into a smile.

"I'm Molly. It's nice to meet you." She shook his hand vigorously as she spoke, the grin never falling from her face.

"You as well. You can call me Sam." Molly nodded, smiling still. She looked around though, as if searching for someone else. But she did not find whoever she was looking for, nor did she ask the question that nagged at the back of her mind. There was someone missing in the picture, she just didn't know who it was, nor was it her place to ask about it. It was not her family that was missing someone either.

"We'd better get going. It was nice to meet you," Sam said, as if knowing that Molly was looking for _her_, that small missing piece, but neither of the adults knew how to confront it. Claire's father pointed the last part of his words at the twins, glancing at them and smiling.

"Claire is welcome anytime to come over, if she'd like. The boys spoke highly of her," Molly stated, nodding at the twins.

"I doubt they do," Claire whispered, joking with the pranks they pulled and the meaning behind the highness. She smiled, a smile pointed at the only two people that heard her speak, while Molly continued talking with her lone parent, discussing idle things, like Sam's job in the Ministry in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, and how Arthur, her husband, worked there too, and if he had ever met him. Sam replied that he had, in fact, seen him, once or twice, in passing.

Molly nodded at that, a smile still about her face.

And the twins grinned.

And Ron and Ginny gazed up at the train, watching, waiting for their turn to go. To finally see for themselves the magic of Hogwarts.

And Claire thought, not really to her knowledge as you'd think, that she was falling in love already, with this family of redheads.

* * *

Throughout Claire's entire summer, she sent letters to the twins, bouncing back and forth between the Burrow and her small house on the outskirts of London. The blonde also sent less frequent letters to Nathan, whose response came back swifter than hers would ever be, and smiled at their idle chatting. She enjoyed the company of the twins better than Nathan's, but would never ditch the kid because he was her first friend at the confusing Hogwarts, the first one to always sit with her at meals, the first one to do anything with her.

Without him, she'd be a lost kid.

But, without the twins, Claire would be bored and missing out on life.

So, she spent her time between the three of them in sending letters while she played with her neighbors and did the chores in her home, counting down the days until September the First, marking them down with earnest from her calendar.

It was when school was in sight that she received the letter that set the last few days prior to the first with happiness.

It was from Fred and George, the pecking of the family owl right before she enter sleep, on the 25th of August. She groaned, momentarily, and opened the window for the owl to settle itself on her desk, offering Claire his leg.

Half asleep, Claire read.

And reread.

And realized with happiness, that she was invited to visit the Weasley's home on the 28th.

Excited and the letter tight in her grasp, she rushed down the stairs, calling for her father and showing him the letter eagerly.

The smile played on the edge of the wizard's lips, tugging upward as her pulled out a piece of parchment to reply.

_Dear Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, _he began, and Claire looked over his shoulder as he wrote, stating that she liked to be called Molly. That smile, though, no longer played on his lips, but stayed permanent throughout the night as Claire edited the letter for him, obviously excited about the visit.


	4. Chapter 4

**A little bit of trouble in the next chapter, and then the Second Year of school for Claire starts! Thank you all for reading! I'm really enjoying writing this out. I hope I did the Burrow's ground floor justice!**

* * *

Claire stood in the threshold of an impossible house, looking, wondering. The house was crooked, and there were other rooms sticking out of it, and she wondered how in the world it stood up. Molly beckoned her in, a hand offering to take her bag and trunk and put it in Ginny's room, where she would be staying.

When she walked up the drive earlier, she noticed a sign that read "The Burrow", and was curious. The house didn't look at all like a burrow, not to her definition at least. A burrow was where the rabbits in her yard lived, what moles did. But there was another definition of burrow that she would learn soon enough, one that meant refuge, or shelter. And this home, with its crookedness and weird rooms and homeliness sure was a shelter in the coming years. A shelter from sadness and evil.

Claire's father had to work up until the first day of school, missing her second start of school. Usually he could get off, but this year was different. She didn't pester him about it, though, knowing full well that work was separate from his life with her. He'd always told her that. Claire thought of asking Mr. Weasley, but didn't want to ask him if she could barely remember his first name.

In their reply to the Weasley's invitation, he noted his work schedule, and asked if wouldn't be a problem for them to take her to Platform 9 3/4. They replied within the day, their owl arriving at breakfast with a positive. The had went to Diagon Alley the week before for her school supplies, so the rush that so often happened to get all the right books was left out.

And now, Claire, with empty hands and hazel eyes full of wonder, she wandered. She examined the living room, the twisting staircase, the kitchen, and the curious clock.

The kitchen was the first thing that hit her, the place where she closed the front door behind her and looked at the stove and the long table that could fit enough for the family, and Claire gaped at a rag that was methodically scrubbing a plate round and round. No hands held the plate up, but she knew.

Magic.

Her father and her had always switched the job of cleaning the dishes around, using hot water and soap in the kitchen sink. Hell, she hardly saw her dad use magic in front of her. She didn't even know magic could do household chores!

Maybe it was something Molly only did because she had—what, five kids? Claire counted off in her head the known siblings of the twins. Percy, Charlie, Ginny, and Ron. There was another, she knew, but he was already out of the house and she only knew of the others because she had bumped into them at one point in her school year.

Fred and George were but two Weasley children out of seven. Claire rationalized that they must be a handful, that they must have caused a lot of trouble for Molly. Their mother may simply not have the time for balancing kids with house work.

Claire wondered if her mother was like that.

The thought fell from her mind as she continued her tour of the ground floor and worked her way into the living room.

The living room wasn't like hers. In her living room, the twin sofas stared at each other, a coffee table separating their gazes and a fireplace pressed against the wall. This one had sofas and armchairs and wooden chairs and pillows here and there and a human-sized fireplace. She had one in her house as well, the one that was connected with others throughout the Wizarding World. She wondered why she hadn't taken it here, but the thought fell when her eyes landed on the staircase.

Wrapping around and around, the staircase seemed to go on forever as she stared through the middle. She wondered how many floors there were in this house, and where everyone was during the day. Claire had many questions, all of them lining up in the back of her mind as this impossible house was made possible by magic.

This whole house her friends lived in was made by magic, Claire would later find out when she asked her questions. Magic and family and bliss.

By the time she worked her way out of the living room, she questioned why she hadn't made the trip to visit the twins earlier. But, thus far, her summer was packed with relatives from the United States invading her house for two weeks, causing her to share a room with a girl named Phillip. Phillip, really?Who named a girl child _Phillip_?

Claire never asked her aunt or cousin, just wondered about it as she listened to the soft snoring of the girl and watched as she played with toys on Claire's bedroom floor. They played together, and Claire kept her mouth shut about magic.

Yes, her aunt was a witch, being the sister of her father, but Phillip showed no signs of being one. At least, that's what her father told her countless times over their stay. Claire never saw the meaning of it, since Phillip's mother was a witch and Phillip was young. She never said anything or showed her powers to her cousin.

She did another walk through of the ground floor, thinking she had missed something. She was right, because there, hanging on to the wall for dear life was a clock. Upon first glance, Claire that was what it was—a clock.

Oh, was it far from it.

The witch stepped closer, examining the curious clock. There were no numbers to tell the time, but there were hands. Nine of them. All of them having a picture of the Weasley's. Seven of them were pointed at "home", one that she knew to be the father pointed at "work", and one that belonged to the eldest child was also pointed at "work". She still wondered what his name was—the oldest, but she knew he might appear in conversation sometime in her life. She left the man to the back of her mind, instead examining the other places on the clock. "Lost", "school", "travelling", "hospital", "prison", and "mortal peril" were the other destinations of the hands, all empty at the moment.

A hand moved forward hesitantly, wanting to touch the smooth looking wood that housed the hands. It felt nice underneath her fingertips, felt nice to run her hand slowly across its face.

After a few moments, she left the curious clock, glancing at it once before looking back at the rest of the ground floor. She couldn't wait to see the rest of the house, couldn't wait to explore every place and crevice and climb those twisting stairs and adventure and make pranks and—

The stomping of feet down the stairs took her out of her thoughts, and bickering. There was bickering from three people. She moved toward the staircase, looking up at three hands that were swerving down the stairs and turning the corners.

"What's her name again?" came a voice she didn't recognize.

"Bug off, Ron!" That was either Fred or George, but she couldn't tell which twin it was. Too alike their voices were from a distance, even up close.

"Oh come on!"

"It's Claire!" She wondered who yelled that, but she realized she was the one who spoke. "My name is Claire!"

And the hands stopped moving, replaced by heads. Two of familiance, one she knew partially well. "I'm Ron! Nice to meet you."

Claire couldn't help the smile that formed on her lips as she looked at the redheads. "Likewise."

She was going to have a lot of fun during her visit.


	5. Chapter 5

**I hope I continued on well with the description of the house! I wish you enjoyment with this next chapter, and the Second Year at Hogwarts begins again.**

* * *

Much to Claire surprise, the house only went up five more floors, not including the attic. Ginny's room was on the first, and she was showed it first, Molly showing her the small room before disappearing up the stairs. Ginny waited for her mother to finish talking, to finish showing the ground floor over again and pointing out the curious clock.

Ginny was rather excited to have Claire staying in her room, happy that she was even staying in the Burrow, and showed it through many questions about life at Hogwarts and what the teachers were like and the classes and Professor Dumbledore. And she continued on until the twins came to extricate her from the room once she was done helping to move an extra bed into place and set her trunk in the small room.

They showed her the rest of the house, spiraling up the staircase and to the second floor, where Fred and George's room resided, along with Percy's, who made himself sacre since she last saw him on the train. Their room was full. Their beds were placed apart by a small space that held a bedside table which had a lamp on top, the cord disappearing behind somewhere. There was a desk placed against the window, cluttered with parchment and ink and other things that Claire couldn't identify. A wardrobe was also placed against the wall, near the bed that wasn't close to the door.

There was an undeniable smell to the area, but she couldn't identify it and left it alone. A few clothes lay on the ground, a sweater with a letter on it there, a robe there. The room was nothing like Claire's, whose was clean and neatly organized, with books lined against the wall in two bookshelves.

She was tugged away after a few moments, and only saw the door to Percy's room before pulled onto the steps and climbed, showed the third floor briefly, with a glimpse of Charlie's room, along with the name of the first child, a Bill who worked at Gringotts, the bank. And their parent's room, which was closed off. Another floor up and the stairs ended, coming to a stop in front of Ron's room, the boy she met with on the stairs.

His door was open, though Ron wasn't in the room. A glimpse of an orange blanket and she was flying down the stairs again, Fred saying, "And that's the tour of the Burrow!"

"There's an attic-"

"-but Mum says you're not allowed up there," George finished, coming to a stop at the ground floor, and looking at Fred. Claire noticed it as one of those we're-having-a-conversation-with-our-eyes-about-so mething look, and didn't ask. Instead she swept back and forth between both redheads, trying to get a hint of the connection but came up empty handed.

Maybe, one of these days, she would finally understand some of it. Maybe, one of these days, it would save her life. Maybe it would conspire. Maybe it would help her fight. But, for now, it's too early for her to know the looks, too little time spent with the Weasley's.

They both grabbed an arm suddenly, both of them laughing about their conversation and dragged her to the door that she entered from. It was getting dark now, the sun beginning its descent, and Molly was saying something about dinner being ready in a few minutes. But the rest of it fell away as the door fell shut behind the trio, leaving them to birds and a pond and gnomes and the magic of this house.

Claire heard chickens in the distance, and remembered that she saw a coop on her way in, that they were clucking and being what they were supposed to be, meandering about the yard and watching her.

The first thing they came upon when exiting the kitchen was numerous cauldrons and boots, some hanging on to each other for dear life, trying not to fall into the grass that was growing. Or, well, it was already overgrown, and pieces of grass itched her legs as she ran after the twins, watched as they ran around a pond that sent many frogs bounding into the waters, disappearing underneath the murky surface. Trees hung to the edges of the walls that surrounded the garden, crept up into the sky that was fading more now.

And something else. There was something else she couldn't name.

The twins had stopped, both of them leaning into a bush and grumbling about something, both of them smiling. And then they emerged with the _thing _Claire couldn't name but knew from pictures and had seen on occasion in her own garden, only thrown out by her father and in the shadow of the night.

A gnome.

And George was spinning it round and round his head by its feet, gaining speed as he aimed at a spot over the hedge. And he _let go_, flinging it high over the wall and it was gone, landing on the other side with a _thump _that resounded to Claire's ears.

"Too high an ark, George."

"Like you can do better."

"I'm sure Claire could do better than that."

"I'd like to see her try."

Claire looked up at the mention of her name, and they were both staring pointedly at her, expecting her to pick up the thing that's head looked like a potato and throw it across the yard. She stood taller, afraid that if she didn't do it they wouldn't be her friend, wouldn't trust her with their schemes that she damn well knew they were thinking of for the new year and their brother's first year at school.

And Claire did, walked over to where one was staring right out at her, its eyes blue, and grabbed it. By the feet. And stared at the twins, daring them to say anything, and she began spinning it, the leather feeling of its ankles rubbing against her palm. And, with it aimed at the fence, she released her grip.

And it flew.

Twisted in the air with the remnants of her swing, and landed on the far side of the hedge, _thum__p_ing a few times before it came to a stop. She looked right at the two, dared them to start this game, and stated, "You want to play?"

They both grinned in return, their lips reaching to their eyes and nodding.

* * *

A good deal of gnome throwing later, Claire found herself feasting on a meal greater than anything the magic at Hogwarts could conjure. Potatoes and chicken and carrots and other foods she couldn't name that tasted delicious going down and stayed in her stomach for the entire night with a gurgle.

She thanked Molly many times, complementing anything and everything she could think of, and the mother of many ate it all up as much as Claire was eating her dinner. And the boy's ate, along with Ginny, and Arthur showed up just before the meal began from work, sitting down immediately with a greeting in Claire's way and told about his day at work, how he saw her father and how he was doing and anything that came to his mind, even coming to asking her questions about Muggle objects that she didn't know the answer to.

There were jokes told and smiles passed. And then questions began, questions pointed at Claire about her summer and then, "Why does your aunt live in the United States?"

It was Ron who asked the question, and she looked at him, unsure of the answer. "I don't know. I never asked."

A few beats of her heart later and then, "What's your mother do?"

A fork fell onto a plate, and Claire knew it was Molly by the way Ron winced in her direction. A glare that sent fear raging through the youngest boy. "She, um...I don't know. I haven't seen her before," Claire answered slowly, voice unsure because of the stare Molly gave Ron just before. But she answered anyway, and with a lie.

Claire had seen her mother before.

Placed in a drawer of her father's, hidden between shirts and robes and socks. It sat comfortably in between cloth. Her mother had blonde hair too, and hazel eyes, while her father had blue. And she was tall in the picture, tall next to a man with hair as bright as the sun and blue eyes. Claire's father. A smile twinkled in her eyes, and the picture began to move, enchanted by magic. A twinkling eyed girl and a sun colored hair man.

Her parents, together. Happy.

And it was placed back swiftly, and she only glanced at it at times she knew her father not to be around. And the last time she looked at it was a few weeks prior to her visit. They were both happy, and she remembered her dad's smile earlier in the day as he said goodbye for the day as he closed the door behind him.

This smile, the smile with a girl Claire had never met before, reached beyond his eyes, moved his ears. The smile she was used to was one with layering sadness, one that was hidden but showed in his smile.

And that made Claire sad. It made her want to see the smile of before.

But, for now, she settled for the twins' smile and watched as Fred's smile reached his eyes as the tension was relieved by a half hearted joke.


	6. Chapter 6

**So I almost split this in two, but decided not to because hey, why not smush all of the train into one thing! And thus begins another year at Hogwarts!**

* * *

The rest of her time at the Weasley's went on like the first day, went on with happiness and jokes and pranks and throwing gnomes over the hedges and talking with everyone over meals and everything else she could imagine. And the day came when they all found themselves standing in front of a seemingly solid wall, the boys joking about something from earlier on in the day.

Claire's fingers gripped the cart that held her owl, watching the wall, glancing at the Muggles that stared at their group, gazing at a boy with ruffled brown hair and glasses that looked right at their group but didn't say anything.

"Always packed with Muggles, of course," Molly stated, looking around. They walked toward the wall, careful and trying not to gather too much attention but failing with the cry of their owls.

"Now, what's the platform number?" the plump lady asked, knowing full well what it was from many years of coming down to the train station.

Ginny was the one to answer, saying, "Nine and three-quarters!" And, then, as an after thought, she asked, "Mom, can't I go?"

"You're not old enough, Ginny. Now be quiet." Molly's eyes looked at the eldest in the group of students, telling Percy, "All right, Percy, you go first."

The tall boy stepped toward the wall, glancing briefly at the people around him, staring at a group of people walking toward him, and began stepping toward the wall. Claire watched as the tourists passed by, cutting the view of the redhead disappearing into the secret station.

"Fred, you next."

"I'm not Fred, I'm George," one of them said. But it was indeed Fred, because she remembered talking to George on the way here, joking about the feast and the food. She wanted to tell Molly what she knew, but knew that they were just joking as Fred added, "Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can't you tell I'm George?"

"Sorry, George, dear."

"Only joking; I am Fred." George and Claire smiled at the boy, watching as he began walking toward the wall.

"Hurry up!" they both yelled, and he did, almost spiriting at the wall. He was gone in an instant, and George followed, and then Claire, all disappearing to the other side, coming upon carts full of trunks and birds and cats and the sounds of families saying goodbye and wishing them well on their year at school.

The smoke was billowing from the front of the train, climbing upward until it disappeared. The trio climbed aboard the train, pulling trunks into a compartment and pushing them into their place.

They were there for only a few moments before they turned tail and went back they came, going to see where Ron was probably, when they came upon a boy struggling to put his own trunk on the upper compartment.

"Want a hand?" It was George that offered, and the boy told him yes, and George yelled into the hallway, "George, Claire, c'mere and help!"

The two came in, pushing the trunk up and then Claire was the first to notice something underneath the mop of hair.

"What's that?"

"Blimey," Fred started, pointing at it. "Are you-"

"He is. Aren't you?" George finished, astonished. Claire was confused, just a bit, because it was just a scar on his forehead that looked like a lightning bolt.

The boy was confused as well, not knowing what they were talking about and asking, "What?"

"Harry Potter?" They breathed it together, as one, and then Claire remembered. The old newspapers that still moved underneath her father's bed and in the living room closest. The Boy Who Lived was in front of her.

"Oh, him." A pause from the boy as he realized what he said, probably used to people gushing about the boy who lived from the killing curse, the boy who had defeated the Dark Lord at such a young and innocent age. "I mean, yes, I am."

The twins started at him in awe until Claire elbowed them in the ribs. "Stop being rude, you too!" she scolded.

"Sorry."

"Fred? George? Claire? Are you there?" The questions came from outside the window, and the trio immediately looked for it.

"Coming, Mum!" George answered, glancing again at Harry before they said their farewells. They disappeared down the hall, following the voice of their mother.

They grouped at a place just at the entrance of the train, Molly wiping something off the youngest boy's nose. The twins snickered, and one of them said, "Aaah, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his nosie?"

"Shut up!" But Ron's flushed face caused the three to laugh some more.

"Where's Percy?" Molly questioned, looking around for the boy, putting the handkerchief away in a pocket.

"He's right there," Claire pointed, staring at the redhead with his robes already on, a _P _on a silver badge on his chest.

_Since when was Percy a Perfect? _Claire wondered, but didn't ask. Her eyes wandered away from the conversation as he said something about having to go back upfront and the twins also questioning when Percy became a Perfect.

Hazel eyes landed on a window, gaze crossing the boy from earlier. Harry was staring right at them, watching their interactions and the twins joking with Percy and laughing. Claire smiled at him, brought up a hand quickly in a wave. His lips pulled in a small grin, and his hand also came up to wave at her.

And then Ginny mentioned Harry Potter, causing him to shrink back into the seat on the train, trying his best to hide himself from their view. Claire fought the frown that worked its way on her face, but pushing it away as she focused back on the conversation.

"Saw his scar," Fred stated, recounting when they met the kid. "It's really there—like lightning."

"Poor dear—no wonder he was alone, I wondered. He was ever so polite when he asked how to get onto the platform." Molly looked sad at the thought, and Claire couldn't help but glance at the window he still looked at them from. She offered him a smile, and he tried his best to return it.

"Never mind that, do you think he remembers what You-Know-Who looks like?" Fred asked, which gave him another elbow to the gut. "What was that for?!"

"For being a bigot, you idiot," she replied.

"I forbid you to ask him, Fred. No, don't you dare. As though he needs reminding of that on his first day at school," Molly scolded him for the very thought of asking Harry, and he shedded away from the woman that was his mother.

"All right, keep your hair on," was his reply as the whistle of the train sounded.

"Hurry up!" their mother nearly yelled, ushering them onto the train, and they quickly obliged, followed by the sound of Ginny sobbing to get on the train, unable to wait a year for the magic of Hogwarts.

George's way of comforting her was to say, "We'll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat!"

Her sobbing subsided for a moment to give way to laughter as Molly glared at him, giving a stern, "George."

"Only kidding, Mum." But something told Claire that he was not, and hid the small amount of excitement that flooded her at the thought of stealing a seat. The three made their way to their compartment, followed by Ron, who was quickly waved off by them, Fred saying, "Go find your own seat, Ronnie."

Ron frowned, but didn't say anything else, and walked away toward his own compartment, leaving the trio to their own devices and train compartment.

The three sat down on the cushioned seats, Fred and George on one side as Claire took up the area with her feet.

"So that was really Harry Potter?" she asked after a few moments of waiting for the train to quit its whistling of departure.

"The lightning scar proved it."

"I'd nearly forgotten about him, honestly," Claire continued, gaze on the door.

George nodded, and the conversation died after that. Nobody truly forgot about the boy who defeated the Dark Lord, nobody would ever let the wizard die so easily. He would live in the hearts of people who had held him as a baby, and a man who sat in a prison, who was wrongfully accused, and who was bidding his time, waiting for the time to escape and to tell Harry what had happened and that damn _rat_.

"First task of the year, my friends," Fred began, watching as students made their way through the hall slowly. "We're going to steal a toilet seat."

"I thought-" Claire began, only to be cut off.

"Oy, if we followed everything our mother said-"

"-little Ronnie wouldn't be terrified of spiders," George finished, grinning at some distant memory Claire wasn't aware of. Fred smiled a bit at that too, moving his feet up and placing them near Claire's.

"But which-"

"-and when-"

"-is the great question," Fred finished, looking at George as he leaned forward, pondering.

"One of the girl's, obviously," Claire stated.

"Why?"

"Because it would be more funny."

"How so?"

"Just imagine for a moment, Fred, George," she began, sitting up straighter and looking at the pair. "You're on your way to your next class, right, not suspecting a thing, innocent. It'd be great if we caught a First Year with it, but we can't always get our way. Luck of the dice, right? Anyway, there's no toilet seat, and girls don't normally look at the seat because there's no guys to put it up in the first place, so they sit down and _splash_, their butt's wet and their robes'll have a little bit of splash damage and they're running late for Potions and can't show up soaking wet but can't show up any later than they already are. So they're in a predicament of do-I-show-up-late-for-class-or-soaking-wet?"

The blonde leaned back, content with her plan, and the twins looked at her, in a mix of awe and some other emotion.

"Genius-"

"-pure genius."

"And here I thought we were the masterminds in this merry band of-"

"Claire." A voice and a harsh knock brought Fred out of his sentence, glancing at the door that was sliding open. A little bit taller than before brunet stood at the door, looking at his friend.

Claire stood quickly, saying, "Hey, Nathan. How was your summer?"

He ignored her question for the time being, sending a glare at the twins instead as if he sensed the plan she concocted.

The twins stood in unison, towering over the Second Year. "Good morning, Nathan," Fred stated harshly, glaring right back at the younger boy.

"Fred, George." He nodded at each of them coldly, his distaste for the tricksters obvious. George stood next to Fred now, watching as Claire looked at Nathan as she always had, not with hate but friendship, like she would always be his friend because he was her first in the giant place of Hogwarts, being her partner in Potions and helping her with homework.

"Claire." He only started with that, but decided against continuing as the trolley lady came down the hall, shouting "Candy," down the corridors. He looked back, deciding against what he was going to say, and then told her, "Never mind. It wasn't important. I'll see you at the festival."

The blonde raised a hand in farewell, muttering, "Goodbye," as he disappeared around the corner and left the three of them standing there awkwardly until the old lady stopped in front of them, causing Claire to be knocked out of her silence and searching for the right amount of coins in her pocket to pay for a handful of candy for the three of them.

The conversation that happened with Nathan was forgotten for the moment, dropped while they enjoyed the candy and laughed, their voices echoing in their minds.


	7. Chapter 7

Claire had ridden with the twins on the carriages for the first time, curious as to what was pulling the cart. When she asked, Fred was the one to answer. With a shrug, he said, "Nobody knows. It's always been like that."

The blonde stared at the spot the horse should be, squinting to see if anything was there. Nothing came up, so she looked for a little longer. "Don't strain your eyes, kid," Fred told her, pulling her back against the seat. "Nothing's there."

Something pulled at her chest that begged to differ, but Claire dropped it and looked at Fred. "I'm not a kid."

"Sure you are. We all are."

"You'll be a kid for a long time," George piped in.

But being a kid doesn't last for long, especially when you lived in the time Claire did. A time where it seemed like everything was okay, where evil lurked where no one could see it, and where happiness was in the shelter of a magical house. Except Claire didn't know that yet; no, she wouldn't realize it until it was thrust upon her, where she found it deep within her heart that she was no longer a child. But that wasn't for some time, and for now the focus will be on the twins and pure happiness.

The ceremony for the First Years passed without incident, and Gryffindor received some new additions, including Ron and Harry Potter, along with many others, all of whom were a mixture of happiness and confusion. She held a small conversation with a frizzy hair First Year she saw on the train looking for a toad, whose name was Hermione and who talked about a lot of things, including the books she read over the summer upon reading her acceptance letter.

When the girl was done babbling, she looked at Nathan, something eating her up in the inside about him. They didn't speak until dessert, and even then it was clipped and about idle things.

"How are you?" That was Nathan.

"Good. I'm excited for this year. I can try out for a spot on the Quidditch team finally. How was your summer?" She repeated her question from earlier, curious about how he was and everything.

"I went to my grandmother's while my dad had to work, so it wasn't that exciting. What'd you do?"

"I..." She paused, glancing at the twins from the corner of her eye who were talking to Harry and Ron. "My aunt came to stay for a few weeks and then I went to Fred and George's house for the last week."

A laugh billowed from one of the four tables, but Claire didn't move her eyes from Nathan. He just simply nodded, a look different from the general interest he held moments before, and they spoke about other things, like the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher they had, but it died down quickly.

When the feast was over, she found her way upstairs, and she was hit with something inside of her. It was worry, and, in all honesty, she worried about Nathan, worried that he was angry at her for hanging out with the twins more than she did with him. Worry about him nagged at the back of her mind as she walked up to the Common Room with Fred and George, but she didn't speak up. No, it was her place to ask about it but not to the people who didn't like Nathan. Claire knew the twins; they'd tell her to leave him alone completely and never speak to him again.

Claire didn't want any of that. Nathan was her first friend, and she felt bad about leaving him in the dust of her adventure. She glanced over her shoulder and down the stairs, thinking she could see his brown hair in the great mass of Gryffindors. The blonde didn't see a hint of the boy and continued her trudge up the staircase.

Once in the round room, surrounded by new children, she told the twins, "I'll see you two at breakfast. I'm tired."

George didn't believe her; a look from his eye told her that. He was sitting next to her at the feast, and Claire knew he'd overheard some of the conversation, probably guessing why she was so quiet on the walk while the two of them chatted about some prank.

Fred didn't see any of it, though, and she could tell by the way he wished her good night. It was happy and easy, leaving no room for question, and she disappeared up the staircase, turning until she came to the dormitory. She searched for a few moments, looking for her blue trunk with her name written on a tag sticking out of it. She found it quickly, seated at the end of a bed near one of the many windows.

Claire opened it, briefly checking to see if anything had fallen from its place. Deciding nothing had, she grabbed a pair of pajama pants and changed in the darkness of the dorm. No one was up here this early, most inspecting the Common Room and catching up with friends they hadn't talked to in awhile, so she climbed into her bed, slipped under the sheets, and stared at the top of her bed for some time.

Tomorrow would be the start of her second year and she couldn't sleep. No, Nathan bothered her mind too much, along with thoughts of the twins and their pranks and Harry Potter and her father and the chatter climbing the stairs along with laughter. The laughter was the loudest, and, for some reason, the twelve year old felt it in her heart. She felt her own laughter deep inside her along with others that mingled together, though she had no idea why.

Claire fell asleep clinging to that laughter.

* * *

In the morning she was still tired, the laughter dead and long forgotten, replaced by a dream she tried to grasp but was unable to. Claire stood, stretched, and looked around. Most of the girls were already awake, some half dressed and others already gone.

She made her bed, sweeping away the creases and then dressing quickly. The robe was familiar against her skin, smooth and tailored to fit her, and she smiled to herself because of the warmth it gave her.

The Common Room was relatively quiet, everyone already gone to breakfast, which was where she was headed. Claire was surprised that the twins weren't still here. Then again, they hardly ever waited for her in the Common Room to eat breakfast together.

Claire turned the final corner to the Common Room, making a beeline to the back of the Fat Lady portrait with her stomach rumbling. Before she could get very far, though, someone grabbed her sides, screeching words that she couldn't tell. Claire jumped around, wand flicking out and _Petrificus Totalus _on her tongue. The blonde paused mid-spell, seeing who the attackers were, and composed herself.

George and Fred were currently laughing up a storm, effectively waking anyone who wasn't already up. Slowly, Claire lowered her wand, placing it back within her robe, and then stood taller. The witch stepped toward the closest twin, guessing it to be Fred, and punched him in the arm. Hard.

"Aw!" he yelped, causing both their laughter to stop. "What was that for?" he whined, rubbing his shoulder.

"Scaring me." She only said that before turning and walking down the stairs, Fred and George running down the stairs to catch her on the sixth floor.


	8. Chapter 8

**Thank you all for the favorites and follows and reviews. I'm glad you're liking it so far. I hope you enjoy this one as much as the others. **

* * *

The tryouts for the Gryffindor Quidditch team fell on the third Saturday of the new school year at the field. Claire walked down to the field with the twins, broom in hand, watching as the two informed her of the new Seeker. "Harry Potter? But he's a First Year!" she told them.

"We know!" they both exclaimed, again acting as one being.

"But that's the point. He's the youngest Seeker on the team, ever. And he's our secret weapon," Fred continued.

"Nobody'll see it coming, either!" George added, waving down the field. "Hardly anyone knows about it. He's not even gonna show up at tryouts."

"So does that mean the Seeker position is unavailable?" Claire asked as they entered the changing room. The twins were already in their gear, ready to watch the newbies tryout. There were roughly three people trying out for Chasers, including Claire, and they were all in mixed states of confusion and readiness. There were four other people looking to go on reserves for the other positions, willing to fill in when times came for people to be sick.

There were six people who already made the team, two of which were not trying out at all because one was the captain and the other was the secret weapon. Thirteen people all in all, and Claire was ready for it.

"Unfortunately, our poor Second Year cannot put her good eyes to use," George stated dramatically, placing a hand on her shoulder. He was already much taller than her, and she wondered if she would ever catch up to the two of them. She doubted it highly, for some reason, as she was just under a head shorter, and her father was only, if just barely, a head taller than the redhead.

"My eyes aren't _that _good," she told them, and they both laughed at some joke she didn't understand. She stood taller and walked away from the two. She found a locker that wasn't opened yet and found the padding that fit her correctly. It smelled distinctly of sweat and old leather, but Claire put it on anyway.

Her broom was propped against the bench, and she grabbed it upon hearing Oliver Wood, the captain of the team, yell, "Everyone to the field. Time to start." She filed out of the room, following the crowd through a tunnel that led to the sandy bottom of the field.

Fred and George were already out of the room, hanging out with Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet, who were both Chasers. They were talking about something she couldn't hear, and she started to walk over to join their conversation when a girl who was in Claire's year said, "Hey, you trying out for the Chaser position too?"

Claire looked at the girl who was talking to. A brown haired girl named Katie Bell stared at her, and Claire nodded. "There isn't any other position that we can fill."

A confused look crossed the brunette's face before she nodded, too. "Oh, yeah. Somehow the position for Seeker was covered. Don't know who, though. It's all hush-hush." Claire sent a glance at Fred, not knowing that it was supposed to be "all hush-hush." She'd bring it up to him at dinner, where she'd tell him not to just hand secrets about secret weapons out like candy.

Before Claire could reply, Oliver's voice rung through the air at the top of the crowd of five newbies. "Okay, everyone, listen up. This year we have a Chaser position that needs filled. Anyone looking for a different position can be put on reserves. Now, let's get this show on the road."

There were three people looking to make Chaser.

Claire was one of them.

And she was going to make the team; she just knew it.

* * *

They were first asked to take three laps around the pitch and to land in front of Oliver when they were done. Claire got off the ground relatively easy on her borrowed broom from the closet. The hard part for her was keeping it steady. But, by the start of the second lap she had gotten the hang of it and was racing toward Fred and George, who were at the front of the crowd.

She arrived beside them at the middle of the third lap, and kept up with them. She'd practiced in the orchard beyond the Burrow in the week before school started, and Ginny was there too, sometimes, helping her out and steadying her form. Claire was grateful, and noted that she'd have to send a letter to the youngest Weasley after all this was over.

When everyone was done with their laps, Oliver told them to separate in groups of who was trying out for what, and Claire found herself in a group led by Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet, who stood tall at the front of the group of three students. "Trying out for Chaser, are you?" Angelina asked. There was a murmur of yeses, but it was overall quiet in the group.

"Let's get going then." The two lifted off in the air quickly, and the rest followed in different groups of balance and take off. A note was taken from Oliver about the lift offs of the group as he flew around the groups, checking to see who would make the team and who wouldn't. He watched over the two groups, one for Beaters and the rest for Chasers. There were no potential Keepers that year, unfortunately, but it left Oliver a chance to examine the others.

Angelina sent the five students to fly back and forth between the goal posts, noting things down, and then they began to start exercises with the Quaffle, passing it back and forth in a zig-zag motion.

By the end of the day, Claire was exhausted, and changed out of her borrowed gear, placing her broom beside the locker and heading back toward the castle. The results would be posted in two days time, and Claire hoped beyond hope that her name would be on that list.

Fred and George were gone; she had no idea where they had run off to before dinner and didn't really care at that point. She'd see them at dinner, anyway, so it didn't really matter where they were now. But she was wrong in one sense and right in the other.

The two would be at dinner.

Except it would matter where they were right then.

Trudging up the hill, Claire's feet were heavy against the green grass. She couldn't hear anything but the soft mumbling in her head about a shower and then bed, not bothering to think about homework or anything else. If she were quieter, she would be able to hear the chatter of two twins running to catch up with her.

But the blonde wasn't listening, and still didn't care until they were upon her.

All three of them were almost to the top of the hill when the older two made themselves known by demonstrating the same move they did to her on the first day of the school year. They grabbed her sides, sending her into a high-pitched yelp, and the twins began laughing until Fred slipped.

Hands still on the girl's side, Fred dragged her down and down the hill. He let go the moment she hit the ground, and George wasn't that far behind in tumbling. The effects of gravity took hold, as they were supposed to, and dragged the trio down the hill, causing them to spin and spin, unable to tell up and down until they were well at the bottom, two laughing and the other partly angry and partly sick.

Claire tried to stop herself by placing her feet in front of her, or push off the ground, or _something._ But nothing worked and she kept spinning, the twins' laughter loud in her ear.

Finally, all came to a stop. In the same state of dizziness as the twins, Claire stood, feet wobbly and tried to get to the twins, who were a few feet away. She didn't succeed in getting closer at all. Instead, she fell to her hands and knees and rightfully threw up what was there of her lunch to throw up.

George's laughter had died down, but Fred's was still loud in her head, echoing off the castle and right back to her. Claire stayed hunched over, trying to gather her breath. She remembered a festival she once went to years ago with her father, and this twister ride that left her feeling sick to the stomach. She'd kept the snacks she'd eaten down that time, but now she couldn't withhold it.

"I'm going to kill you," she breathed. It was aimed at Fred, as George had come to help her stand with shaky feet.

"No, you're not," he replied happily. "Now, let's go get some dinner."

And he was right. She wouldn't kill him.

In seven years' time, a wall would fill her threat. And she would be sobbing then, not halfheartedly laughing at the bile taste in her mouth that was washed down with wonderful food when they finally found their way up the hill and into the Great Hall.

She'd barely even remember her threat by then. Time wore away at the small thoughts, like the ones Claire felt after the tumbling. She'd forget them in seven years, but she would remember Fred.

Oh, God, who could ever forget Fred.


	9. Chapter 9

**chaansan: Fred's death killed me, and I think it will do the same to Claire, when the time comes. But that's later, and this is now, where I'm supposed to be dwelling on the happy things. In all honesty, they're not just all in our heads. The characters we've read so much about have become almost whole in some people's minds. We've spent time running around the Wizarding World for years and years, simply enjoying it, and a part of us is still there, at the aftermath of the war. So, yes, they are partly in our minds, but they are in our hearts and bodies and we_ give the characters life. _Enough about all that mumbo-jumbo, I'd like to thank you for reviewing and enjoying the story thus far. Thank you again.**

* * *

The results for the Quidditch team came the exact day they said they would, placed on the board in the Common Room. Claire fought her way through the group of people looking at the same posting she was trying to get an eye on. They'd have none of it, and it wasn't until Fred and George finally came down the stairs did she find out if she made the team or not.

With their height, the twins easily saw over the small heads of Second and Third Years. "Any new Beaters this year, Fred?" George asked, knowing full well there weren't.

"Not a lick. But it looks like two new Chasers have joined the team."

Claire beamed instantly, knowing by the grin Fred held that her name was written in fine print on the list. "Seriously?" She asked it if she would never believe it, even if she read the list herself. Most of the other people had already left, disappointed in themselves because they didn't make it.

"Training starts the week before Hallowe'en. Better stay on your toes then." The witch resisted the strong urge to hug the twins, to share her excitement. She only beamed some more before going to breakfast.

Claire's excitement showed through the rest of the day, and, when the time came, she looked down the table at Nathan at dinner. He was talking with the frizzy haired First Year, Hermione. Claire waved at him to get his attention, and he looked up. "Hey," she said, excited still. She hadn't told him the news yet, and hoped he didn't look at the list himself.

"Hi."

He was a few seats away, on the other side of the table, and she could hear him just fine.

"I made the Quidditch team, Nathan!" Claire may have said it a little louder than she meant to, but she couldn't care less if other people heard.

Nathan raised an eyebrow, and Hermione's attention was now on the conversation. "Really? I didn't know you were trying out."

"I'm sorry I never told you. It must have passed my mind. I'm sorry." She apologized again, the second time for something else. The second apology wasn't for forgetting, no, it was partly for not speaking to him and ditching him for the Weasleys.

"It's okay. I'll cheer for you when you play, if you want?"

"I'd like that, yeah." The blonde smiled at him, and he grinned back.

* * *

The rest of the month leading up to Hallowe'en went relatively smooth. Claire practiced a few times in the Quidditch field with Fred and George once or twice, passing back a ball they found somewhere, hovering in the air with only a broomstick keeping them from mere death. She spoke with Nathan and the intelligent brunette at dinner, and she did her assignments. She sent letters to her father and read them eagerly, happy for his words.

And then came the night the troll appeared.

She had Defense Against the Dark Arts in the morning, followed by Charms and then lunch, so she had a relatively easy morning. Professor Quirrell had been his usual, shaky self. Claire watched him lecture about something she had no interest in, watched him walk about the room with that purple turban that never, ever moved from its place, watched him stutter about the subject until, _finally_, the bell rang and Claire gathered her books, shoved them in her bag, and made her way from the second floor over to the South Tower, where Charms was held.

Claire found Charms class boring as well. Professor Flitwick was leading the revision for _I__ncendio_ spell, and she watched as he sent a jet of fire over the heads of many interested Second Years. But she knew full well what the spell did, and found it a nice spell if needed. Except she didn't really need it right now, not when the excitement for the Hallowe'en feast held above her.

The feast wasn't for another two classes, and lunch, so she wondered why her excitement fluttered out of control. It was probably due to the twins, and the prank they planned for the night. "Trick or treat," Fred had stated, starting the ball off. "Muggles dress up on Hallowe'en and say it. We're taking it to the next level."

Claire had nodded, agreeing and listening. But no more was shared except for a devious grin. She'd wanted to know more, but the two kept quiet for the rest of breakfast, and she watched their every move during the meal, searching for something that could lead her to know what they were planning.

When lunch and the last two classes rolled around, Claire kept moving in her seat, waiting for the clock tower to dismiss her from Transfiguration. "Miss Stevens, do you have somewhere to be?" Professor McGonagall's voice rung through the classroom, and Claire almost jumped in her seat.

"Um, no, Professor."

"Then would you please demonstrate the Beetle Button spell?"

The blonde held a puzzled look across her face before Nathan elbowed her in the side. She completely forgot what they were working on, and her eyes fluttered downward to the beetle trapped in between her pile of books.

"Yes, ma'am."

Picking up her wand, she glanced down at her beetle, hoping that it didn't fail like the few times it did before. So far it had been half working and half not, so she hoped she wouldn't make a fool of herself. Wand in hand, her eyes gazed the Professor's, who was watching her intently. She tapped the beetle once, said the spell normally, and watched the tip of her wand changed colors before returning to normal wood.

The beetle stayed the same for what felt like minutes, until, finally, it was a button. A blue coat button. "Very good, Miss Stevens. Ten points to Gryffindor."

Just after that announcement, the bell rang and McGonagall sighed. "Class dismissed. Enjoy the feast tonight."

Oh would they enjoy the feast, all right.

* * *

Claire sat in the Common Room, reading by the warm fireplace until George and Fred's class ended. They had Care of Magical Creatures. She asked why the two had taken it. Answering as always, Fred replied, "It's supposed to be an easy class. And Professor Kettleburn likes us because of Charlie."

A chuckle had come from George's mouth. "Quite right to, huh?"

"Some could disagree," Claire joked right back, and Fred laughed at the girl.

"I knew we liked you for some reason." The comment brightened Claire's day for some reason, and she didn't know why. Some may think it was because she looked for approval from the two, and it was probably true. But maybe it was because the way that the twins showed affection, and Claire knew that for some reason, knew that they rubbed her hair whenever she did something they thought was niffy or enthused them because they were happy with her outcome, knew that she was like Ginny except for not.

Now the twins were clambering up to the Fat Lady, saying the password, and swinging in. "Dinner's about to start, kid. Let's go." She couldn't tell who said it, but knew it to be Fred by his use of kid.

She leaned over the couch, looked at him, and said, "I've told you before. I'm not a kid."

Fred and George collectively sighed, glanced at each other, and said, "Must we go through this again?"

"Until you two understand that I'm not a kid, yes."

"But you are a kid." That was George.

"I-"

"Agree to disagree for now. We've got a prank ahead of us." That was Fred, and he smiled at the bickering girl. "And we don't want to be late to it, either."


	10. Chapter 10

The Hallowe'en decorations were the same as they were her first year, with live bats fluttering about and candles floating above. She resisted the same urge she had before to reach out and grab one. With each beat of the wings from the bats, the candles flickered, but they still stayed lit. Claire wanted to know why they were always like that, never dying, but everyone she asked didn't know the answer.

Everyone around her was festive, happy for the brief break in between school, however short. Exciting how a feast can take away the worry away from people. People filed in quickly, sitting down at their tables and chatting.

The gold plates appeared once the majority of the people sat down and the feast was allowed to start. Claire ate the wonderful food, breathing between bits and talking with Fred and George, curious about the prank.

And, when she was halfway through a potato and starting the sentence of, "So when does your prank start?" Professor Quirrell burst through the door, all flustered and out of breath.

He was screaming about a troll in the dungeons. He was frantic in his motions and Claire questioned what happened to the timid man she saw earlier in the day. "Troll—in the dungeons—thought you ought to know." The professor fell after his announcement, collapsed right in front of Professor Dumbledore's chair.

Then, the uproar came. A bunch of shouting people trying to get away. Claire was frozen, staring at the passed out man and at Fred and George, who looked like they had no clue what was going on.

It took a spell from the front of Dumbledore's wand to silence everyone. After that came, "Perfects, lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately."

Percy was ready the moment the words left the headmaster's lips. He stood and said, "Follow me! Stick together, First Years! No need to fear the troll if you follow my orders! Stay close behind me, now. Make way, First Years coming through! Excuse me, I'm a Perfect." He repeated those phrases the entire climb up to the seventh floor. Claire hung back with Fred and George who were near the end of the parade of Gryffindors.

"Fred, George, what were you thinking?!" Claire was outraged, obviously, at the twins' thoughts of it being okay to bring a troll into the school. Her thoughts of their prank were what led her to this assumption, even though it was wrong.

"What? You think we did this?" Fred hissed.

"Of course I do. You said you were taking trick or treat to the next level." Claire wanted to yell, but kept her voice down as to keep the suspicion away from the twins. She may be angry at them but Claire didn't want to see her two best friends expelled.

"We didn't, honestly. We wouldn't even know where to _find _a troll!" Fred was angry at her assumption. He never would bring something dangerous into the school. Well, he might, if it weren't for George keeping him from something so...drastic. Even then he'd have to find one and lure it through the big doors of the school. The redhead would get caught immediately.

"Seriously, Claire," George said, stopping her on the staircase with a hand on her shoulder. "We're not that stupid."

The look in the twin's eyes told her he wasn't lying, that she was wrong to blame the pranksters. And, so, she told them, "Okay. I believe you. I'm sorry."

Together, again as one being, they nodded and continued climbing the stairs, only to discover three out of the Gryffindors were gone. One being Ronald Weasley.

Percy wouldn't let Fred or George out of the Common Room, and stood stock still in front of the painting. "No one is allowed to leave the dormitory," the older ginger argued. "There's a troll out there and I cannot allow anymore students outside."

"Ron is out there!" was Fred's argument, and it was a valid reason. The youngest male was left out there with a troll and a bunch of teachers, along with Harry Potter and Hermione. "We have to help him."

Claire only watched as the three went toe-to-toe, only to have Percy shut him down with the facts time after time. "If you ask again, Fred, I will have you sent up to your room and you will not come out until the danger has passed."

Fred's mouth opened and closed quickly, looking for words, but failing until he turned, grabbed George and Claire and went over to sit by the fire. "I don't understand why he's not worried about Ron," Fred huffed after a long silence.

"He's with Harry, Fred, and from what I hear Hermione is a wonderful witch. I don't think we have much to worry about, really," Claire offered. But nobody said anything beside that, so Claire leaned farther into the couch, thinking things about trolls and Professor Quirrell and the warmth of the fire until, slowly, she fell asleep against the twins.

* * *

Claire jumped awake, jolted by the movement of a twin underneath her head. She stood with fists ready, as if someone was attacking her. It was from her dream, though she could hardly remember it now as she stood in front of the two sitting redheads, that caused her to become so defense.

"Claire?"

Neither of the twins spoke, and then she realized. "Ron? You're okay?"

The redhead blushed and rubbed his neck. The fire had died down a while ago, now just dying embers, and she could make out the outlines of two other figures behind him. Harry and Hermione.

"We're okay, yeah."

"What happened?"

"It was my fault, Claire," Harry said, and it was the first real thing that he had said to her in ages. "Hermione was in the bathroom crying about something Ron said in Charms, and we went after her to protect her, I guess."

"We fought the troll." Claire had no idea which one said it.

The blonde felt this uneasy feeling of being a mother, of protecting the three, but she hid it, suppressed it greatly and it disappeared. "Go upstairs," one of the twins stated, motioning toward the staircase. "You need some sleep."

"I'm glad you three are okay," Claire whispered after them, sitting back on the couch next to George. It turned out he had fallen asleep as well, using the girl who used him as a pillow. He'd woken up when Fred nudged him, and Claire felt his movements in her sleep.

They watched the dead fire for what felt like hours, one fighting sleep, until Fred said, "We'll see you in the morning, Claire."

But Claire did not move from the couch, just stared. She was twelve and felt undeniably tired. She did not want to sleep, though, not right then. "I'm sorry, again, for thinking you two brought the troll in."

It was George that answered. His voice came from the bottom of the stairs. "Go to sleep, Claire."

It took the blonde a while, but she finally made her way upstairs and collapsed in her bed.


	11. Chapter 11

November began and nearly ended without any other event as big as the troll encounter. The first match of Quidditch was approaching swiftly, and Claire practiced nonstop with Fred and George, and, on occasion, Harry would show up to run drills. He was still a secret weapon, and the less people that knew the better. He only practiced with Oliver Wood and the twins, prepping him for the first match against Slytherin.

Against all hopes for Harry to be kept a secret, the word found its way into the school system, and entered Claire's ears one day at breakfast. She was sad that they didn't have the chance to have a secret weapon, but the sadness didn't stick around for long because Saturday was upon them.

Claire ate with the twins, as usual, and ate a relatively small meal. The twins' warnings that if she ate too much she'd get sick on the field stuck in her mind as she picked at her eggs. Nathan was sitting next to her for the first time in a long time, and told her, "Do good today, okay?"

"I plan on it," Claire replied after she finished a bite of toast.

"We'll make sure to keep the Bludgers away from our favorite Second Year," George stated, slinging an arm around the blonde.

"Most of them, at least. There's no fun in no pain," Fred added.

"Rather boring, actually."

"Helps to keep Jordan entertained as well, isn't that right?" Fred shouted down the table toward Lee Jordan, the commentator for the game.

Lee lifted up a thumbs up sign through his mouthful of food, smiling at his friends.

"Keeps everyone entertained," piped in a First Year, leaning in to join the conversation. "Seamus Finnigan." He held a hand out for them to shake, and Claire was the only one to do it. "Couldn't help but overhear you all discussing the Quidditch match." The boy had a distinct Irish accent, and Claire saw him a few times before in the halls.

"You're the bloke that blew up the feather in Charms, right?" Nathan asked. Seamus noticeably blushed.

"Yeah, that was me."

"Miss Stevens over here stole-" Fred began, before being cut off by a hissed, "Fred!"

"Oh, you're ruining the fun, Claire," Fred stated.

"Suck it up. I thought you weren't going to tell anyone about that."

"We haven't yet, have we?" George questioned.

"Not yet, at least."

"Well, keep it that way." Silence found its way on to the table, and Claire stood, breakfast finished, and stalked away from the twins. "I'll see you two on the field, okay?" And Claire left without another word, disappearing out the door and walking down to the field to prepare for her first came.

* * *

The blonde was nervous, to say the least. She wore her scarlet robes like the rest of the team, and clutched her broom tightly. Fred and George stood calmly next to her, brooms leaning against the lockers. Harry was somewhere to their left, standing next to them she was sure, and she stared straight at Oliver, waiting for his speech to come.

The twins told her all about it, quoting him in the way that the two of them mimic Professor Snape in the hallways, making her laugh no matter what. The mere thought of it almost sent Claire into a fit of giggles, but she held them down as Oliver cleared his throat for silence.

"Okay, men," he started.

"And women," added Angelina Johnson.

"And women. This is it."

"The big one," said Fred Weasley.

"The one we've all been waiting for," said George.

"We know Oliver's speech by heart," Fred told Harry, "we were on the team last year." Claire half wanted to elbow him in the gut, but Oliver took the idea away from her with words instead.

"Shut up, you two," said Wood. "This is the best team Gryffindor's had in years. We're going to win. I know it." He glared at them all as if to say, "Or else."

"Right. It's time. Good luck, all of you."

Claire marched behind the twins and out of the locker room. She was nervous, but she wasn't the only one. She could see the way Harry's face paled in her peripheral at the cheering crowd high above them. For now, at least. She'd seen him in action, and that nervousness would fall away to reveal adrenaline and skill that Claire knew he possessed. She just wished she could say the same thing about herself.

Madam Hooch was refereeing, as usual, and she stood in the middle of the field watching the two teams, her broom by her side. "Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you," she said, once they had all gathered at the center.

The woman stared straight at Marcus Flint, the Slytherin Captain. Claire thought he was a Sixth Year, but couldn't be certain, mostly because he looked much older than he actually was.

Claire could clearly see the scarlet and gold flags for Gryffindor and the green and silver flags for Slytherin above her, flapping in the November wind, marking the opposing teams. She could see a banner that looked like it said Potter For President, but she didn't understand why Harry would be running for president of a school that had no such thing, or why it would be at the first Quidditch match.

Madam Hooch's voice broke her out of her thoughts. "Mount your brooms, please."

Claire got onto the broomstick she'd been using from the school's collection. She'd written to her father, explaining that she made the team, and he had replied quickly, promising her that they would go to Diagon Alley on her Christmas holiday. Claire, naturally, was excited about the prospect, and shared her joy with the twins.

The loud whistle that Madam Hooch blew brought her out of her thoughts, and Claire kicked off. Fourteen other people followed, and the game began. The commentary began almost immediately, Lee's voice reaching the blonde's ears as she tried to focus on the Quaffle.

"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor—what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too -"

"Jordan!" Professor McGonagall stated next to him, watching him like a hawk.

"Sorry, Professor," Lee apologized.

Claire could hear Fred's laughter from behind Angelina Johnson, and almost thought of sending the redhead a glare if they weren't in the middle of their first match.

"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve—to Claire Stevens now, a Second Year who is just starting out with the Quidditch team—no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes..."

Lee's comments fell on Claire's cold ears, echoing through the cheering of the crowd as she desperately tried to regain the ball she had dropped into the Sixth Year's grasp. She only got it back by the neatness of Oliver's block from Marcus' attempt at scoring. It flew into her grasp, and she rushed forward, dodging people who tried to take it from Claire.

The blonde was just about to pass it to Alicia when something hard hit her head. Square in the back of her head and she nearly slipped off her broom. Adrian Pucey had taken the Quaffle now, speeding toward the goals. She had a few classes with the bloke, and Claire wished she hadn't any with him.

Her head throbbed, but she continued onward, the urge to yell at the twins for not doing their job lost on her as the screaming of the crowd nearly mows her down. Gryffindor scored, and Jordan screamed into the microphone.

The ball came back into play quickly, and Slytherin took possession of the ball. Claire barreled toward Pucey, hoping to catch up to the Second Year. And then comes the blaring question from Lee Jordan.

"Was that the Snitch?"

Claire fought the urge to snap her head to wherever the Snitch was, and thought of going after the ball when she noticed the golden blur by Adrian's left ear. She paused, the Quaffle forgotten as Harry dashed for the Snitch, the Slytherin Seeker right behind him.

No one on the field seemed to move.

Except for Marcus Flint, that is, who moved forward to block Harry. Harry rammed into him full force, and Claire moved forward, the rest of the Gryffindors screeching, "Foul. Foul!"

The Golden Snitch was gone and Marcus was told off by Madam Hooch and the scarlet team was allowed a free shot, which Alicia made wonderfully, scoring more points to the missing of the Snitch.

"So, after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating," Lee began, but was cut off yet again by McGonagall. "I mean, after that open and revolting foul," he tried again, but was shut down. Jordan sighed. "All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinner, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue playing, Gryffindor still in possession."

The game continued like that for an awfully long time, Claire scoring a few goals and not getting hit by any more Bludgers. There was still no sight of the Snitch, and the game wouldn't stop until then.

Flint had the ball, yet again, and was speeding toward Oliver on his broomstick, when Claire noticed Harry off to the side, fighting with his top-of-the-line broom. Quite literally. He was trying desperately to keep ahold of it, and Claire knew he would fall off.

Fred and George moved closer to help him onto one of their brooms, but they failed as it kept climbing higher and higher. They moved below him, as if to catch him if he fell. Claire circled underneath Harry, knowing that she wouldn't be able to catch him if she could.

And then he fell, tumbled past everyone's hands that tried to grab him. He was halfway down when he looked like he was going to throw up. The wizard landed on the ground, rolled onto all fours, and put a hand to his mouth.

The First Year coughed up something golden, and Claire glided down to join the rest of the team on the sand.

He almost swallowed the Snitch. He won the game for the Gryffindors.

It took everyone a moment or two to gather their bearings, but the uproar was great and glorious and the banners quickly turned the colors of Gryffindor, signifying their win.

Claire walked back to the locker room ecstatic, sharing in the beginning of the season's victory, joyous and thinking of the letter she would send to her father when she got the chance. The blonde couldn't wait to read of his reply.


	12. Chapter 12

**I hope I did the snowball scene justice with Professor Quirrell. I've no idea if I actually did that, but I hope I did. Thank you for reading this, and your input is wonderfully loved.**

* * *

December came quickly, and Claire spent the majority of her free time with the twins and their clever minds. When it snowed, they made their way outside for a snowball fight and played like children should. And, on this particularly snowy day, they were away from the castle enjoying themselves. Then appeared Professor Quirrell and his turbaned head.

Fred was the first to stop his laughing, coming to a complete stop and dropping the ball of snow so it joined the rest of the white substance. George was next, and Claire was giggling about something before she noticed that they had quieted.

"What are you guys-"

"Ssh," Fred hissed, holding up a hand and pulling his wand from his pocket. They were wearing sweaters and jeans, free for the moment in Saturday bliss. Claire's fingers were cold even with her mittens, and she stuffed them in a pocket.

The redhead bent down, quickly, and George followed. Claire was the only one that stood still, watching but not understanding what they were doing. At their feet sat a pile of snow balls. In both of their hands they gripped their wooden wands, staring at the professor.

"George?" she whispered. But there was no reply as they stood straighter, wands in hand.

And, together, as one being, they said, "Wingardium Leviosa," and the snow began to move, to _fly_, to go upward and then forward.

Claire spoke the moment the first ball hits the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher in the head. Her voice came quickly and loud. But the words fell on deaf ears as the laughing began. "Fred! George!" The rest collided on the back of his head, and he snapped around, some strange noise coming from the turban on Quirrell's head.

"Run!"

"I-"

She can't say anything else as both twins grab her arms, leaving the battlefield in an instant and dragging her along and back toward the castle, laughing all the while. "What were you two thinking?" she yelled as they ran into the castle, the doors opening upon their presence.

The thing is, they weren't really thinking. At least, not thinking of things that Claire would think of. They were thinking of fun and not of consequence. They were thinking of the look on Professor Quirrell's face when he turned around to look at them and of the excitement on the other twin's face when their minds began turning, and, maybe of Claire's reaction, which turned out like they thought.

"Were you even thinking at all?"

"Of course we were!" one of them replied, pulling her up the stairs now and toward the Common Room.

"What were you thinking _of_?" she asked, though she probably already knew the answer.

"Fun!" George stated.

"His face!" Fred said at the same time.

They would have added more if it weren't for the shape of a professor in front of them.

"What do you three think you're doing, running through the halls and tracking snow up the stairs?"

Professor Snape.

Fred and George dropped Claire's hands, and both of them looked up, staring at the older male.

Claire was the one to speak, covering with, "We just came in from outside, remembering that we still had that essay of yours to do about the difference of Wolfsbane and Monkshood."

"That explains you, Miss Stevens. But the mischievous twins?"

"Uh-" Claire began, searching for their excuse but being sshed by the professor.

"I wasn't asking you, Stevens. Five points from Gryffindor for speaking out of turn." Claire opened her mouth to speak again, but decided against it and stepped down a chair.

"We hoped to help Claire with her essay. Give her the right path to follow and what not." Fred grasped for the right words, not really knowing what to say.

"To cheat?"

"No, not to _cheat_," George said. "To _help_, there's a difference, you know."

"I know the difference, Mr. Weasley."

"Then you'd know Mr. Weasley is our father," Fred added. "_We _are Fred and George. And this, is Claire." He put Clarie in with a flourish and a wave of his hands in her direction.

"_Fred_!" Claire hissed.

"Detention, all three of you, until the beginning of the holidays at seven o'clock sharp. And twenty more points from Gryffindor for your foolishness."

"Foolishness?" George asked.

"George!" Claire said, again but to a different twin. "We're going to go, Professor. Have a nice day." Claire dragged the two down the stairs, taking them away from their original destination. "Can you two not keep your mouths shut for five minutes?" the blonde questioned when they got down the stairs and into the main hall.

"We can-"

"-we just didn't want to," Fred finished.

"He's a mean teacher-"

"-and deserves to be treated the way he treats people he thinks lesser than him."

"But you can't just-" Claire began.

"There they are!" came the voice that cut her off. It came from behind them, and Claire regretted her choice to go back to the main room where anyone could find them. At least roaming the halls saved them a few hours of being reprimanded.

A groan fell from Claire's lips, and she turned. Professor McGonagall stood next to the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and Claire shrunk at the look on her face. Cleaning cauldrons for a week and a half was one thing, but she really did not want to clean up after the people who failed to do their Transfiguration spells correctly. And who knows what Professor Quirrell's punishment would be.

"You didn't do anything, Claire," Fred whispered.

"We'll stick up for that," George added.

"No." Her voice was strong and not like her own. And, even though this wasn't going to be their biggest prank yet, she was going to stick with these two, through thick and thin, until the day they departed for months due to their leaving in her sixth year. Claire was only in her second year, and there were still four left.

"Fred, George, Claire, would you like to explain where you were..." Professor McGonagall looked at Quirrell for an estimated time.

"Ten...ten minutes, ma'am," Quirrell answered.

"Where you were ten minutes ago?"

"We were outside, Professor," Claire stated.

"Were you perhaps throwing bewitched snowballs at Professor Quirrell?"

"Yes, yes we were," one of the twins said.

"Then fifteen points from Gryffindor and you will have detention for the Professor every evening after dinner up until the holidays. Fred and George will have an extended detention since they're staying here during the holidays with me."

"I don't think that fair, Professor," Claire spoke up, just as the woman was turning around. Professor Quirrell's lopsided turban attracted her attention, and she thought she heard mumbling from somewhere but couldn't be sure. The witch averted her eyes toward her Transfiguration teacher.

"How so?" McGonagall raised an eyebrow in question, daring her to challenge her.

"Um, just because they're staying here for the holiday doesn't mean you can give them extra time. You don't even know whose idea it was to bewitch the snowballs. It could've been me."

The twin on her left, George, whispered, "You don't have to stay because of us."

"Mr. Weasley has a point," McGonagall said, looking at the twin in knowing because if he thought whispering could get passed her cat ears, he was wrong. "I'm aware of your father and how much you would like to see him. You talk too loudly to your friend during my class sometimes."

"That's still a little unfair, isn't it? I mean, if these twos' parents weren't going to Romania they'd be going home for Christmas. Just because I'm going home doesn't mean you should give them unfair punishment." Claire felt like she was rambling, but hoped her point got across through her slur of words.

"Would it be fairer if I gave you two extra weeks of detention after the holidays?"

"I...That would be fair, yes," Claire spoke, standing taller. She didn't think it necessary to tell the woman about Snape's detention yet. Two people's detention would be okay, since they wouldn't cross each other. She mentally mapped out that Professor Quirrell's would end just around the time Snape's began, and they would make it just barely.

McGonagall smiled, waited a few moments, looking at the three students in front of her, and turned to Quirrell. "Professor, do you think it would be all right if the week and a half detention would be enough for these three?"

"Ye-yes, I think that would b-be okay with me," Quirrell stuttered, wringing his hands.

"Wait, what?" Claire tried to grasp onto what they were saying, but couldn't.

"Directly after dinner you three are to report to Professor Quirrell's room for your punishment," Professor McGonagall informed them.

"Thank you, Professor," the three of them said, and they left, knowing they got off easier than they should have. The twins could never thank Claire enough for her quick thinking.


	13. Chapter 13

**So summer again, and then the third year and Hogsmeade and that's always exciting.**

**chaasan: Don't worry. I only wrote the first half of her second year to the book as to show Claire at Quidditch along with the snowball scene. For now everything will be much quicker, hopefully. Her third year won't follow that much of the plot, only snid bits here and there to let the readers know where we're at. **

* * *

The rest of her year was bland and ordinary. Claire spent her Christmas holidays and the New Year with her father, telling him in detail the twins and Quidditch and everything and anything she could think of. In return, he told her about work and all the things idiotic wizards and witches did that he and his department had to repair and cover up.

On Christmas morning he was off work and they celebrated together. Claire gave him the candy she had bought on the train ride, wrapped it herself and all. Her father was ecstatic that she got him something. The blonde recieved a few things for the holiday, one of them being from Molly, which she hadn't expected.

A bright blue knitted sweater with a _C _upon it, along with a letter that informed her of Charlie's job and the weather of Romania. Another came from the twins, and was just a can full of snakes that scared her immensely. She smiled nonetheless, thinking of how she could get them back next year because she had already sent them their present of candy upon candy along with a letter.

She didn't receive anything else outside of family gifts and smiles from her father as he handed her his gifts to her. A few books and new mittens, along with a hat that fit her head perfectly. And hidden behind the tree sat the last, greatest gift of them all.

Placed in a box surrounded by red wrapping paper sat a broomstick that would see many adventures. Claire waited patiently with her father, thanking him many times for the things he had gotten her. The blonde looked at the tree they decorated the moment she got home, proud of the work they did. Unknowingly, she was memorizing all the decorations on the tree to tell the twins, painting a picture of a house they may or may not see, giving them a tour of the corners and rooms and fireplaces.

And then her father appeared with the box, and smiled. It stretched to his eyes, and Claire watched in awe as he placed it in front of her.

"Go 'head, open it."

So she did. Gently to reveal a Cleansweep Seven, fresh off the market, and hugged her father, wrapped her arms around him and thanked him so many times she lost count. Claire would have rode it that day if it weren't for them living in a Muggle town, but she still practiced bringing it up and into her hands, to feel the familiarness of it and to get ready for the next match.

Christmas break ended swiftly, and Claire was soon on the train back to Hogwarts.

Days went by after that. She juggled school work with pranks and the twins and Quidditch and Fred and George going to Hogsmeade on weekends with the other Third Years. They offered her many times to show her the secret tunnel that led to the basement of Honeydukes, but she refused, knowing if she went to the town she would get caught by something or another. Instead of spending those fun days at the town, she used her time with reuniting with Nathan.

He, too, had gone home for the winter holidays, and they both talked about what they received and gave. Claire left out the sweater and the can of snakes that Molly and the twins gave her respectively, knowing it would kill the conversation immediately.

She fell into a nice rhythm of writing letters to her father, pranking with the twins, talking to Nathan on weekends, and playing Quidditch on her new broom.

It was only broken by the end-of-the-year exams, which she had been freighting over for some time. The exams ended up being nothing to worry about, seeing as the only thing to worry about was Professor Snape's, and that was only because he was constantly breathing down her neck as she tried to effectively brew a Swelling Potion.

The twins and Claire sat down at the Gryffindor table at dinner, tired after the long day of exams. They'd hardly had time to prank, and Claire nearly forgot about blowing up a toilet when one of them asked, "You still up for stealing a toilet seat, kid?"

It was supposed to be their first prank of the year, but it slipped their mind quickly. If they weren't going to start the year with a flourish, they were sure going to end with one.

"Of course."

"Tomorrow."

"We'll ditch class before the third bell-"

"-and meet you by the third floor lavatory."

"Don't be late," George added.

"Or we'll go on without you."

"Understood."

Come tomorrow, the prank would be halted by the finding of three First Years. Come tomorrow, Claire, Fred, and George would be standing next to a sleeping Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley in the hospital wing. Come tomorrow, the prank would be back in motion, but not so they could laugh at late students to class with wet robes, so they could possibly have something to show the hurt First Years.

Claire stood in front of the third-floor girl's lavatory, waiting on the twins at the place they said they would meet up at to pull the prank. She waited while people walked around after the bell rang, looking at the students milling around, heading toward their class until, finally, she gave up on the two just as the bell that signaled class sounded.

It was Friday on the the last week of school and she had Potions. Claire would be damned if she got yelled at by Snape because of the twins' incompetence. The blonde would give them an earful at dinner, if they actually let her speak through the tugging of her arm and the leading her toward the hospital wing.

Claire's tired by now, tired of them not telling her why they're pulling her toward the place where people who are injured go, tired of them not telling her what's going on, so she stopped. The blonde planted her feet on the ground and didn't move, demanding, "What is going on? Why didn't you show up for the prank? Snape _yelled _at me _again _for being late. It would be one thing if we did the prank and I had something to think about while he lectured about the beginning of next year but there was nothing."

George frowned, and it was the first time in a long time she saw him frown.

"Harry was found this morning-" he started.

"-he was in the third-floor corridor," Fred continued.

"Not _in _but _under_," George added. "Ron and Hermione were there with him, too."

"So?" Claire asked, puzzled and confused.

"The corridor that Dumbledore told us not to go in."

"And _we _never did, because what Dumbledore says is law."

"But those First Years beat us to it-"

"-and are in the hospital wing because of it."

"Harry looks horrideous-"

"-Ron's got a few scratches-"

"-and Hermione's okay."

"What happened?" Claire asked, trying to follow along to whatever they were saying. They shrugged, and grabbed her arms again, pulling her toward the three First Years and the answers they held. Claire wasn't so much as dragged this time as she ran, leaving her dinner uneaten and her anger at the twins for ditching her earlier for the pranks with her meal.

They arrived at the wing quickly, Madam Pomfrey allowing them in for a short amount of time. Fred and George pulled her over to where Ron was sitting up and eating his own dinner. He smiled and waved at the sight of the three. Hermione was next to him, looking if nothing a little frazzled at whatever happened. Harry, on the other hand, was scratched and bruised and looked burnt in some places.

Claire stepped toward him, unsure if he was awake. But his eyes were closed, and an empty bowl of soup sat next to him.

"He hasn't woken up yet," Ron stated, breaking the silence. "But Madam Pomfrey says he just needs a few days to recover from what happened."

Fred beat Claire to her question, asking, "What _did _happen?"

"Dumbledore says it's supposed to be secret," Hermione informed the trio, but she looked unsure of herself. Ron gave her a look, and she sighed, waved her hand at the three, and said, "Oh you were going to tell them anyway, so whatever."

Ron grinned and started off with, "So the third-floor corridor that's off limits ended up having a three headed dog named Fluffy in it..." They all sat for nearly an hour listening intentively to the tale, nodding and understanding, moving chairs to sit next to the boy. Madam Pomfrey let Ron finish the story, but the moment in was over she ushered the ones who weren't injured out of the room, excluding Hermione.

"We're still going through with the prank," Fred stated when they reached the Common Room.

"Just not for the fun of seeing a First Year in the toilet."

Claire nodded, but said, "What about Madam Pomfrey?"

"Don't worry about her," Fred replied.

Except they did have to worry about Madam Pomfrey. Getting the toilet seat from the third-floor bathroom had been easy enough. None of the teachers were around when they snuck it out, leaving one of the stalls without a seat and an unaware student wet and uncomfortable. But Madam Pomfrey was a hawk, denying them entry upon seeing the seat.

"Oh come on, Madam," Claire said. "It'll cheer Harry up."

"He doesn't need a disgusting toilet seat to cheer him up, Miss Stevens. What he needs is rest."

"He needs that too, yes, but just let us give him the toilet seat." That was George, pointing through the door at the sleeping boy. It was past breakfast, and Ron had been released from the hospital wing before than to eat with everyone and pass around the tale, though only one of those was allowed.

"No." At that, she snatched the toilet seat from them and said, "I'm confiscating it for you three. I've no idea how you even got one, but I'm making sure you don't give it to anyone else or sneak it in here. Now, go away. Harry needs his rest."

They weren't allowed in the hospital wing for any reason for the rest of the year after that, and Claire packed in the meantime, walking around the corridors when she finished. Her plans for the summer were vague, and so were the twins'. Before the whole ordeal with the three First Years going into the third-floor corridor, Claire sent a letter to her father, asking if the twins could visit for a short while in the summer.

On Saturday, she received a reply, with a yes attached to it. The blonde shared the news with the twins, who would pass it to their mother when they arrived at the train station. If they sent a letter now, the reply might be too slow to get back in time for the train, seeing as how terrible their family owl was. Claire was excited, nonetheless, and the twins were too.

Claire saw the impossible Burrow. Now it was time for the twins to see the possibly boring house.


	14. Chapter 14

Claire's summer was full of showing the twins around her relatively small home, telling them facts about her house and what not to do, even though they would most likely the opposite if it weren't for her father's warning. If it weren't for the fact that he worked fixing wizard's messups, she was sure they wouldn't listen to whatever he said, but they were careful when they were outside, save a few times when they brought out things they bought from a joke shop in Hogsmeade.

The warning of no magic outside of Hogwarts also hung over them, and Claire held true to it, careful to keep her wand and broom hidden away in her closet, not to see the light of day until September the First, which she still counted down to.

They stayed for four days, right up until Claire's aunt came over to visit again. A frequent visitor to the Stevens' household, Claire was used to the way she was to act around her aunt and Phillip. All wizarding items put under the bed and in the closet, no mention of her school year made. The blonde shared the routine with the twins, though they wouldn't be at her house to witness it.

George understood the reason why, and Fred was more-or-less following along as well. It was hard to keep yourself from using the items you grew up with, like brooms and magical clocks and changing tongue color candy, when people who weren't supposed to see it could see it. Claire argued that she grew up with hardly any exposure to magic, saying she knew what her father did but told the people at the Muggle school she attended differently as a child, so it was easy for her to not speak about it to Phillip.

On the day of Fred and George's departure, they stood in front of the giant fireplace that seconded as a transporter. "We'll see you in three weeks, then," George told her, waving at Claire's father.

"Don't get into too much trouble while we're gone," Fred added, though it was them getting into trouble that was more likely.

"I'll do my best."

"Thank you, Mr. Stevens for letting us stay here," George said, elbowing Fred in the gut to remind him how to be polite.

"And you, Claire, for inviting us."

"Anytime," Claire responded. She quite honestly meant it. Spending time with the twins was wonderful, and she was continuing to fall in love with the idea of them and their mother and their personality and their mischief. She could barely think of a happy memory that didn't include them, and knew, that since they were a year older than her, that she would be away from them for a whole year. Claire dreaded the thought, and put it away from her mind.

"We'll see you at the station," her father said, waving them goodbye. "Thank you for coming over."

"Our pleasure." And Fred actually bowed, tipped his long body down as if he were in front of a king and queen. George followed suit, pulling off an invisible hat at his movements. When their heads came back to place, their lips held captive smiles that reached their eyes and Fred stepped back into the tall fireplace, trunk in hand. "Tell your aunt I said hello, Claire." With a flourish he dropped the powder and said, "The Burrow!"

He was gone in a puff of smoke, and George stepped into place. "I look forward to our next year." Then George said the name of his house clearly, dropping the Floo Powder at the same time and vanishing.

Claire and her father stared at the empty fireplace for sometime, neither speaking, until, finally, Sam said, "Those two boys are quite something."

"I know," Claire replied, smiling still.

* * *

Claire was ready as always on September the First, trunk packed and owl in his cage. She still had no idea what to name him, and asking Fred and George proved to be a tiring ordeal of, "Name him after me!" "No, me!" so she'd given up. When the time game, Claire would give him a name; that time hadn't come yet, so the owl stayed unnamed and happy with that fact.

The week before, her father took her to Diagon Alley, buying all the Gilderoy Lockhart books she needed for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Seeing as Professor Quirrell had died because of whatever happened underneath the third-floor corridor at the end of the semester. She'd ask Harry the day he woke up, asking him what happened with the professor, and he filled in everyone about the events.

Those thoughts behind her now, she sat in the backseat of her father's car as he milled about London traffic, parking in front of King's Cross and helping Claire get her things onto a trolley. They had approximately twenty minutes before the Hogwarts Express left, and she didn't see hide nor hair of the Weasleys.

"Do you see them?" Claire asked, tugging on her dad's coat, looking around. But all she saw were faces that had names that she would most likely never know.

"No, but maybe they're already on the train," replied her father, always the wiser.

"I'll check and save a carriage for the three of us. I'll be right back." Hurriedly, she took her things off the trolley and dragged them up the stairs and into the first open compartment that she saw. Her unnamed owl sat on one of the seats, saving it from anyone who was still searching for a place in the crowded train.

Claire emerged from the cramped space of the halls and back into the smell of smoke. According to the clock hanging above them all, there was ten minutes left until the train departed. She hadn't heard the twins' laughs or saw Percy already in his robes patrolling and helping like he was last year with him being a Perfect. With no sign of the red-haired family, she began to worry.

And, then she heard them. Loud and clear through the whistling and chatter around her. "Quickly, now. Hurry." It was Molly's voice; Claire knew the second the words left the mother's lips. The blonde stepped toward the sound, but halted, remembering her father.

The wizard stood tall amongst the bustling crowd, searching, too, for the Weasleys and his daughter. One of them came to him quickly, and dragged him over to the others. Molly and Arthur were helping Ginny place all of her things onto the train, and Fred and George were nowhere in sight.

"Claire! How nice it is to see you again!" Molly exclaimed, enveloping her in a hug of warmth and folds and a smell that Claire would never, _ever _forget. Arthur and Sam were chatting off to the side, calmly and about idle things.

"There she is!" someone yelled from behind them, and Claire searched for the giver of the voice. It was one of the twins, hanging out precatiously from one of the windows. "Where've you been, kid?"

"Me? I've been here. Where have _you _been?" She fought the urge to tell him she wasn't a kid, but the thought died down as the urge to laugh at the boy hanging out of the window.

"Hanging out with some loud, unnamed bird and someone that looks and talks too much like me." A laugh bubbled up but died as her father pressed a hand on her shoulder.

"You better be joining them, Claire," he said, and Claire moved her eyes toward the clock again. Three minutes. "Have a nice year. I'll see you at Christmas."

"Bye, Dad. Have fun. I love you," she told him, and then waved at Molly, telling her goodbye and everything. She clambered up the stairs after her goodbyes, joining Fred, George, along with her unnamed owl. The blonde waved at the trio from the window until they disappeared, and she sat down, looking at the twins.

"How was your summer?"

"We saved Harry from his terrible uncle," Fred began.

"And we stole Dad's flying car to get him..." George added, jumping in like always. She would never tire of hearing the two of them talk, of passing through conversation easily with an interruption from one of the two. It was fantastically prefect, and Claire was reminded of how much she was in love with the two of them, together, always.

A thought crossed her mind as they continued their tale. She opened her mouth to ask it, but someone else did. "Where's Harry?" A pause, silence. "And Ron?" It wasn't her that spoke, though. It was Hermione who asked them, standing in the front of the compartment with Ginny behind her. "Have any of you seen him?"

"Oh, no," breathed Fred.

* * *

Claire wrong her fingers underneath the table at the Welcoming Feast. Harry and Ron weren't anywhere on the train; Claire helped look for them. If they didn't show up, what would that mean? Would they have to retake their second year? The blonde asked Fred and George when they finished searching, and they didn't have an answer.

No one they knew missed the train.

It wasn't until ten minutes after the First Years were done being sorted that Professor Snape walked into the Great Hall, made a beeline toward Professor McGonagall, and took her away from the feast with an angry expression across his face.

"Do you think...?" Claire dared to ask, and stopped herself.

"No, not usually," one of them joked. They knew she was worried, but Fred and George didn't share in with that worry. "But, no, he looked angry like Harry and Ron actually showed up, not like they were found dead at King's Cross." That was George, she was sure, who reassured her just a bit with his words.

Claire ate her dinner, stealing glances at the door on occasion. It took five more minutes after McGonagall left that Professor Dumbledore stood up and left, too, probably going to wherever she went. Claire watched the Great Hall's door close, curious about what was going on.

And the rumors started quickly once all three teacher's came back. They came from someone nearest of the teacher's table. Claire tried her best to ignore them, because they mostly varied from Harry and Ron getting expelled for flying a car, to _dying _because of the Whomping Willow. She calmed herself and ate her chicken, listening to Dumbledore's announcements once he gave them.

He warned the First Years about the Forbidden Forest and introduced the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Gilderoy Lockhart. A groan came softly from the twins next to her, and Hermione gave an excited squeal despite her worry for her missing friends.

Claire knew of him from glancing at the books required for her year, and from seeing him and the reactions of most of the girls in her area, she knew him to be a heartstopper, at least from rumor. She hadn't seen him yet, and wasn't able to catch a glance from her spot at the table, and truly didn't care whether he was handsome or not.

As they climbed up the stairs to the Gryffindor tower, Fred joked, "Let's hope old Claire doesn't get a crush on the teacher."

"What? Why would I do that?" Claire was repulsed by the thought of them thinking she could have a crush on Lockhart, especially since she had barely gotten a glance of him when they exited the hall. When she went to Diagon Alley to get her supplies, she'd seen countless pictures of him, and Claire couldn't stand looking at him for more than a few moments.

"Because you're a girl, and all the other girls are-" He wasn't able to finish because Claire socked him in the arm.

"Shut up. You have no idea what you're talking about," she replied, angry that he would even think such a thing.

"Is our Clairey-Weary-"

"_Shut. Up__."_ Claire had stopped walking altogether, and her fist was tight against her robe. "I will punch you so hard, Fred Weasley, that-"

"Move along, you three," a voice said from behind them. It was one of the Perfects, ushering them up the stairs. "Don't hog the staircase."

Claire turned with a huff and walked toward the Common Room, Fred and George snickering behind her. Claire would never actually punch Fred across the face, or George, for that matter. She may have wished to, but she'd never actually hit them beside playful punches. Just because she would never punch the twins didn't mean she hadn't punched anyone else. She punched a total of three people in her life that actually mattered to be listed.

The first: Nathan Barnes.

The second: Unknown.

The third: Death himself.


	15. Chapter 15

The year of 1992 passed by swiftly, though Claire received word on the First of December that her father was unable to get off work for the week, and therefore couldn't go home. She was saddened, but remembered that Fred, George, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were also staying for the holidays, three of the five preferring to stay in the warm castle than the sandy country of Egypt where their brother worked.

Claire replied to her father, writing that it was fine and that she would send him the present she bought for him on her first trip to Hogsmeade. Though she may have missed her middle of the year visit to her home, she knew that Easter was just around the corner and she could still visit him them. Besides, the twins and her had been together for a little over two years, and they hadn't shown her the mysterious map yet. Claire planned to inquire about it when she got the chance and wouldn't stop pestering them until they gave her a good enough answer.

And so Claire adventured into questioning them the moment she could. And received an answer the day before Christmas. The Common Room was empty, Hermione, Ron, and Harry, the only ones in the Gryffindor Tower for the holidays, had disappeared an hour ago. The three of them had just finished a game of Exploding Snap, leaving Fred the winner, as usual, and they sat by the fire, watching the falling logs and joking about the next day.

A lapse in the conversation caused Claire to bring the map up, saying, "What happened to that map you had?"

A pause, and then, "What map?"

"The old parchment map that you passed between each other when we were going to the first tunnel."

"We've not told you about it yet?" George asked, leaning forward from the lounge chair he was seated at.

"You haven't. And it's been bothering me for ages."

Fred and George exchanged glances, as if handing out the blame for whoever forgot to inform the blonde about the map.

"We found it in our first year," Fred began, getting the ball rolling.

"Stole it right under Filch's nose, we did," George added, seeming proud of their achievement. With eyes like a bird of prey, it quite was no small feat.

"It took us a while-"

"-a long while-"

"-to figure it out because you had to say a phrase to open it."

There was a pause in their explanation of the map, and Claire nearly leaned off the couch in anticipation.

"Get your wand out and come here." She was unsure of which twin said it, and it didn't really matter. There was just that damned map that she would only see a handful of times before it was handed down to the rightful owner. So she moved to where they were at, and to where Fred was pulling a piece of parchment out from a pocket unseen inside his robe.

"You must swear that you won't tell anyone about this," Fred started.

"Not a soul," George said for good measure.

"Not a soul," Claire repeated. And she wouldn't. Not even her father because she feared, if just for a flickering moment at the seriousness in the twins' eyes, that they would no longer speak to her, no longer let her share in on their foolish pranks and jokes.

"Tap the map with your wand and say, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good'." Claire hesitated for a moment, and then, "Go on, do it."

She took the map that was handed to her, she tapped it, once, and said, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." Thin lines of ink began spreading, crossing out from the end of her wand, moving to each of the corner. At the top of the page, in green, curly letters, Claire read aloud, "Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs, Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present The Marauder's Map?"

Opening the piece of parchment, she stared in awe at the halls and the moving footprints with names and secret passageways leading out and about and every which way and the three of them, sitting in the Gryffindor Tower. Her mouth opened, as if to say something, but no words fell from it.

"Who are Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs?" She looked up after a few moments, staring at the goofy grins the twins held.

"Don't know," Fred said. "But we own them so much."

"True heroes to generations of lawbreakers," George stated.

"To close the map, all you have to do is tap it and say, 'Mischief managed'," Fred demonstrated, tapping the parchment himself and the map closed, the ink lines disappearing into his wand.

"Wow." The words barely came out of her mouth, and she stared at the now blank map. A passing of gazes between the twins happened as she looked at the magical map, a passing of gazes that briefly conveyed something.

"We're lending it to you-"

"-but only for a few months-"

"-to give you time to look it over-"

"-memorize the passages-"

"-know the passwords-"

"-dodge the teachers every now and then-"

"-and then we'll need it back, okay?"

The blonde was listening intently to the twins by now, trying to understand what they were saying. She nodded a few times, telling them, "Yes, of course. I'll look after it."

"We're trusting you with something great and powerful, so don't lose it," George warned.

"Never."

And she wouldn't lose it, only because she kept it the thin lining of her trunk, near the sides, where the leather inside was beginning to peel away from it being from her father's time at school. Claire would only take it out when everyone else was asleep, and she knew that for sure, sneaking it out quietly and reading it by the light of her wand, mouthing the words to herself, writing down things at times when there was no one around.

* * *

Christmas came and soon drifted by. She woke up earlier than usual, trying her best to stay in bed until she heard the clock stick the hour outside, but too restless to. When Claire was unable to stay "asleep" for much longer, she moved out from bed.

Two presents sat at her trunk.

The first, from her father, a small leather bound book full of nothing but a letter scribbled on the inside cover. Though it may have been empty, it wouldn't stay that way for long, not with the way her father wrote to her about how she should fill each and every page with her handwriting, writing down whatever and whichever thing came to her mind.

The second was from Molly. It was a new sweater. It was still bright blue with a _C _written on the middle. The blue was beginning to be her favorite color, and she would remember to tell Molly that when she got the chance.

There was another present, coming from the twins, but that wouldn't come until later. Though she told them that having the Marauder's Map for a few months was a Christmas present, they heard none of it and proceeded to get her one. She had one for them as well, hidden in her trunk. They would exchange their presents later that night, after the Christmas dinner that Hogwarts held, and Claire could barely hold her excitement.

The rest of the day passed by swiftly, the excitement rising and surging through Claire's heart because she hadn't gotten them anything before beside candy, and she didn't call that a real present, at least not in her book. A real present was trying to buy it with them looking over her shoulder at every purchase at Hogsmeade. A real present was spending hours upon hours creating something with her hands. A real present was wrapped in her trunk, waiting.

The twins pealed her from the couch by the fire at the strike of the clock tower, and pulled her down the stairs quickly, rushing toward her first Hogwarts Christmas dinner. And boy, had she been missing out before. The meal was piles and piles upon chicken and turkey and duck and stuffing and cranberries and potatoes and green beans and rolls and laughs and joking and juice and water and anything that came to Claire's mind.

Dessert came and went, what with Claire swallowing pieces of pound cake as quickly as they came to her plate. And then the time of the three older Gryffindors climbing the stairs, the other three running off to somewhere the older ones only questioned briefly, came with quiet chatter over how great that meal was and how they couldn't wait for the next.

By the time they came to sit around the fire, the sun was already set. Two presents sat in the middle of the carpet, one to Claire, the other to the twins. She wrapped the presents together, though there were two gifts in the package. A letter and something more stationary and now. Earlier in the month when the idea came to her, she had asked Professor Flitwick about a time capsule spell of sorts, a spell that would lock something up until a certain amount of time.

The time Claire aimed for was in 1997, near the beginning of summer. Around the time Claire was supposed to graduated.

The blonde had no idea why she chose that time, but it was deemed appropriate. A little over seven years of knowing them by that time, she would hope that they understood whatever she'd written about them and her life, hoped that her words would shape their relationship after life, hoped a lot of things, and, mostly, hoped that they stayed friends long after that.

Claire smiled at the twins, watching as they both itched to grab the gift. They were waiting for the next boom of the clock, the mark of 8 o'clock. The trio agreed on the time earlier in the day. Before, it seemed a nice time; now, it was making them crazy.

Finally, the clock striked the hour and hands darted forward. A pause as to who should open them first, until the twins opened theirs at the same time as Claire did hers. Unplanned, but a nice thought.

The wrapped gift was big, and rather heavy, and Claire was puzzled. When she opened it, it was not a snake in a can like last year that greeted her, no. What greeted her was candy. Lots and lots of candy that must have cost more than she would ever spend on one go.

"You bought me all this candy in one sitting?" Her voice came out small, small because no one had ever gotten her a jar from Honeydukes filled with assortments of candy, because no one had ever paid attention to what kinds of sweets she ate. And they were all there. Jelly Beans, Chocolate Frogs, Liquorice Wands, and Glacial Snow Flakes.

"We bought the jar first-" Fred began, the box from her unopened in his lap.

"-and then the candy," George finished, trying his best to open the letter but unable to.

"You guys are the best. Literally the best I could ever ask for." Though she never asked for them, never wished them to talk to her. They had wisked a feather away from her and took her to a mystery tunnel. They were the greatest from the very beginning, though none of them had realized it.

"You give us too much credit," George said, staring at her instead of the letter.

"Though we gladly accept it," Fred added.

Claire set aside her jar of candy after a few moments of admiring it and looked up at the Fourth Years. "Your turn." She motioned toward the box, knowing that the other wouldn't open.

The box was plain cardboard, about as long as her forearm and then some, but inside it was anything but. Inside it held many different compartments that she had to ask help for, had to go after class and avoid telling the twins, had to speak to the Charms teacher and make sure no one spoke about it.

"I, um, had to ask Professor Flitwick's help because the charms were a bit advanced for me, but I did the final product myself." A pause, and then she added, "I thought since you guys are doing that secret thing in one of the lavatories that you thought I wouldn't know about that you would need a better thing to carry all your items in. A suitcase but small."

She watched as they pulled one of the many tabs to give way to a set of cubbies. "I got the idea from a tackle box, but on a much smaller space."

A few moments of their silence and opening tabs and looking at the box, George asked, "You're an absolute genius."

"Pure genius," Fred echoed, eyes on her.

A blush fell onto her cheeks, and she looked at her hands as she responded. "I'm actually not, but thank you."

"What's in the envelope?" one of them asked, changing the attention. "It won't open."

"That's because I, again, asked Professor Flitwork to put a sort of timer spell on it. It won't open for a while, and I'm not going to tell you when, so just make sure you keep an eye on it and don't lose it," Claire explained.

"Never," the two of them said in unison.


	16. Chapter 16

Something was up, though Claire was unable to put her finger on it. Something was strange and so very wrong, Claire decided, with Ginny. She looked...different, somehow. And when the blonde asked Fred and George about her, they simply put it down to her being sick, to having fallen ill to the terrible weather outside.

Except, no, Claire suspected something else.

Ginny was acting strange, and not because she was ill. Claire wasn't able to put a finger on it, and told the twins off when she caught them jumping at the First Year dressed in furs and boils. They tried to argue with her, saying it was cheering their sister up, when, in fact, it was frightening her more. They stopped after a while, thanks to Percy's involvement.

But she was still ill looking, and not any kind of sickness Claire saw among humans. Not a cough or a sneeze or a running nose. Just a pale face and strange actions. Though she did have a weak feeling about her, like she was being drained by the sickness.

Again, Claire tried to confided in the twins that something was amiss, but they, again, set it off to her being sick. A few weeks after Valentine's Day, the Third Year went to the young redhead, hoping to find out something more than the ideas she already had. It was at lunch, and the twins were nowhere around to interfere with her investigation.

Sitting herself next to the youngest Weasley, she ate quietly for a few moments, and then, halfway through a bowl of soup, she worked up her voice. "Are you okay, Ginny?"

It took Ginny a moment to realize that Claire had asked her a question, that Claire actually spoke to her after so long of only talking to the twins. She opened her mouth as if she wanted to tell her something, but decided against it and, instead, closed her mouth and nodded. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure? I mean, your brothers are worried about you. They think you're sick."

"I'm perfectly fine. I haven't been sick in ages."

The wrong answer, Claire knew. Because if she hadn't been sick, then there was something else wrong, something, probably, worse. Claire didn't vocalize that thought, chosing instead to say, "If you ever need anything, you know where to find me, okay?"

"Okay." A hesitate between her next words. "Thank you for asking."

"You're welcome," Claire replied, and smiled reassuringly at the girl, the smile saying things Claire didn't mean to say but that Ginny picked up on. Things that said it will be all right soon, that everything will turn right, that that damned diary would disappear.

The next day was Saturday and the Gryffindor Quidditch team was playing against Hufflepuff. The last game they played, Claire sat out, knowing her anger at Draco Malfoy for calling Hermione a Mudblood would boil over on the field where there was nothing but air and sand so far below. She didn't know the boy very well, and never planned to, but that wouldn't stop her from bumping his shiny new broom out from under him, sending him toward the ground.

That was just a fantasy, though, because she wouldn't cause those actions. The least she would do was tell the twins to send Bludger and Bludger at the blond. (And she did, mind you, and they had already thought of doing it.)

But now she stood with the rest of the Gryffindor team, broom in hand and heart already soaring, on the sand pitch, looking at the Hufflepuffs as they did some last minute discussions about tactics. The team was halfway to mounting their brooms when she spotted Professor McGonagall, purple megaphone in hand, running toward the center of the field.

"No," Claire muttered, others having the same feeling of dread as her.

"This match has been cancelled," came the deciding words, and Claire gripped her broom tightly. Boos and shouts of anger erupted from the stands, and some ungodly words fell from Fred's mouth behind her.

Oliver Wood landed in front of Claire, running immediately to the Transfiguration teacher. "But, Professor!" he shouted, sand still flying as he came to a stop. "We've got to play! The cup—_Gryffindor—_!" His thoughts were flying off his tongue, and he hardly finished his sentence before the Professor picked up her megaphone again, ignoring Oliver.

"All students are to make their way back to their House Common Rooms, where their Heads of Houses will give them further information. As quickly as you can, please!" Claire watched as the students filed out from the stands, not moving from her spot with her broom in hand.

"I can't believe they cancelled the match!" someone said behind her shoulder, not moving either.

"They _never _cancel matches," another grumbled came from her left, and still, she didn't move. A mixture of worry for whatever was so drastic that they cancelled the Quidditch match and anger for the fact that the match was cancelled crossed her mind.

"C'mon, Claire," one of the two speakers nudged her shoulder, pushing her forward. It was Fred and George, she realized, because no one else would nudge her forward like that, or wait for her as she stared at the emptying stands. "We better get going before Percy has a hissy fit."

"Something's wrong," Claire mumbled, following the twins back to the locker rooms.

"Quite obviously."

Though she had more to say, she didn't voice her thoughts. Something was wrong because Harry was gone, and so was Ron, she realized when they got to the Common Room, everyone shuffling for a seat. And, later, Hermione.

Gods, something was going on in that school and Claire was beginning to worry what was happening, beginning to worry why students were being petrified and blood written on the walls.

She clenched onto one of the twin's robe as Professor McGonagall came into the Common Room with Harry and Ron in tow. A rolled up piece of parchment was in her grasp, replacing the purple megaphone.

They were seated on one of the couches, Claire in the middle, worried, questioning, puzzled, about the predicament.

"Some of you may not know, but today, two more students were attacked. A Gryffindor, Hermione Granger and Penelope Clearwater, a Ravenclaw." Claire held a tight grip of the cloth agaisnt her hand, her face flashing through emotions.

And then Professor McGonagall started reading from her parchment. "All students will return to their House Common Rooms by six o'clock in the evening. No student is to leave the dormitories after that time. You will be escorted to each lesson by a teacher. No student is to use the bathroom unaccompanied by a teacher. All further Quidditch training and matches are to be postponed. There will be no more evening activities."

Silence. There was no noise in the Gryffindor Common Room beside McGonagall rolling the scroll she was reading from. Claire's grip on the fabric tightened, and her throat closed. Something was strange and so very wrong.

In a choked up voice, the Transfiguration teacher continued, "I need hardly add that I have rarely been so distressed. It is likely that the school will be closed unless the culprit behind these attacks is caught."

"I would urge anyone who thinks they might know anything about them to come forward," McGonagall continued. The room was deadly quiet, and Claire heard her heart beating in her throat.

Professor McGonagall nodded, exiting awkwardly through the portrait hole.

Lee Jordan was the first to break the silence. "That's two Gryffindor's down, not counting a Gryffindor ghost, one Ravenclaw and one Hufflepuff." He was counting them off on his fingers, one by one. And then he started to speculate. "Haven't any of the teachers noticed that the Slytherins are all safe? Isn't it obvious all this stuff's coming from Slytherin? The Heir of Slytherin, the monster of Slytherin—why don't they just chuck all the Slytherins out?"

Claire had a completely good opinion against what Lee was saying—that maybe the culprit was smart enough to not attack the Slytherins because he or she wanted the blame on the Slytherins, that the culprit might have hated the Slytherins. Not having any of the Slytherins in the hospital wing was a great enough reason for people to think the Heir was one of the uninjured.

The twin on her right leaned in to talk to Harry, nodding toward Percy and saying, "Percy's in shock. That Ravenclaw girl—Penelope Clearwater—she's a Perfect. I don't think he thought the monster would dare attack a Perfect."

There was no response to George's explanation, and more speculations erupted around the room. Claire had a tight grip on the robe still, and she had no idea. Lee's words rang in her ears, and the thought that _anyone _could be next, could be picked off like food at dinner, caused her heart to drop.

A place of fun and adventure and life suddenly halted and turned to one where they were always watched by teachers, had a curfew, and fear, fear of being next, of not being safe in a school full of wonder and magic and so much safeness.

A warm hand on hers jolted her out of her terrible thoughts. A hand that erased the fear, a hand that was like her smile to Ginny the other day, a hand that reassured her that everything will be okay. A hand that belonged to Fred Weasley, who smiled at the Third Year and squeezed the fear away, who was a bright light in the tunnel of darkness.

There was no joking or messing around now. There was a monster roaming about the school, freezing people with glances, and there was a sister that could very well die because of a diary. There was a terrible teacher who didn't know the first thing about defense against the dark arts. There were a lot of bad things, but, in all of that, there was still Fred and George, the duo, the pranksters, the smiling two.

And that was something for Claire to look forward to.


	17. Chapter 17

Three days prior to the final exams of her third year, something worse than Claire would ever think to happen actually happened. Professor McGonagall's voice rang through the halls, the classrooms, everywhere. The blonde was in the midst of Charms class, studying for her exam when the voice sounded.

"All students are to return to their House dormitories at once. All teachers to the staff room. immediately, please."

And then everyone stood up as one body, frightened and terrified for their lives about whatever the emergency was. Claire was barely able to move, her bag hitting against her back as people shoved toward their Common Rooms. There were whispers around her as people shoved forward, whispers of the Heir of Slytherin taking someone down to the Chamber of Secrets.

She didn't know who it was, or if it was true, but her throat choked up, her ears rang with words she didn't know, and she was desperately terrified of the outcome of the end of the year. The blonde did her best to fight against the crowd and follow the path to the Gryffindor tower. She was halfway down the stairs when she realized she was going the wrong way, pushing her way through a surge of students as she headed down the stairs instead of up.

Through the thickness of loud, ringing voices, she heard a familiar voice yell at her. "Where the hell do you think you're going, kid?" it said, and then a hand grasped her arm, turning her around and then another pulled her along.

Before she could speak, both hands that grasped her tugged her upward, firm hands on her upper arm. "I was going the wrong way," she managed, trying to reach toward the ground.

"Quite obviously," one said. Fred.

"Third Years, what would they do without us?" the other asked. George.

"I can walk, you know," Claire huffed after a few moments, trying to get down from the two's hold on her.

"We know."

"But it's much faster this way." Again, she opened her mouth to tell them off and to make them let her go, but the open portrait hole appeared quickly, Gryffindors pouring into it like water in a river.

"Quickly, now," a Perfect told them. "Boys, set her down." Claire didn't know who the Perfect was, but was glad that she (Claire was certain it was a female Perfect, because Percy was already inside, counting heads) told the twins to put her down on firm ground. Claire brushed her robes off the moment she touched ground, getting rid of creases that appeared where the two hands were placed.

"Let's not do that again, okay?" she said to the twins once they were in the Common Room, waiting for whatever was going to be said to be said.

"Oh, we'll make a point of it next time," Fred replied, grinning as they stood against the wall, all the other seats taken.

"How can you joke at a time like this?" Claire asked, not at all smiling and keeping to the seriousness of the situation.

"We've learned long ago-" Fred began.

"-that someone has to be there to defuse the tension and-"

"-it might as well be us. You see, we're so full of humor-"

"-that it's hard not to."

"God, you two are just-" Claire started, but was unable to finish when she overheard the words of Percy, done with his head count.

"We're three short," he said to the Head Boy.

The Head Boy stood in front of the fireplace, looking at the crowd, and asking them all, "Look around to see if a face is missing. This is very important. Who is missing?" His voice was loud, demanding, and somehow desperate and scared.

Claire joined in, counting off every face she knew (which was small, mind you), until, "Where's Ginny? And Harry and Ron?"

Just as she said it, Fred mumbled, "Ginny?" And then louder, "Ginny!" It was strangled, as if it was fighting to be heard in the now deadly silent room. Everyone was quiet, she heard a strangled cry come from somewhere, but couldn't find out where.

Though she shared a room with the girl for a week, she never really talked to her much. And, now as Fred and George and Percy desperately tried to reign in their emotions of sadness and loss that Claire would feel all-too-soon, she wished she had, for their sakes.

The blonde followed the twins' bodies to the floor, holding onto the both of them with hands that shook. Trying to comfort them but failing. They weren't sobbing, no, they were in that state of death where they're silently grieving and living times over, trying to hold onto a smiling face of their youngest sibling.

Claire tried not to look at the portrait hole opening, tried to not avert her eyes from her friends, tried her best not to get frazzled at the fact that there was nothing she could do, no way to save Ginny or ease the pain. She rested a hand on Fred's back and didn't say anything beside that. Oh, God, she wanted to say something and do something, anything, to ease the pain they were feeling.

"Gryffindors," came the voice of Professor McGonagall. Claire looked up, briefly, to see a sad looking Transfiguration teacher. "I'm sure rumors have spread amongst yourselves over the past few moments about what might be happening, but I'm here to set those rumors into place and tell you the truth. I am afraid to tell you that another message has been left by the Heir of Slytherin. Right underneath the first one. It read, 'Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever.'"

A sob echoed from someone, but Claire had moved her eyes back to the twins.

"I'm sure the Perfects have informed you that a student was the taken. A Gryffindor. Ginny Weasley. Tomorrow morning, the Hogwarts Express will arrive and every student is expected to be on it. I am sorry to tell you such unfortunate news, especially since we have four family members among us."

Before she could get another word out, the Head Boy interrupted. "Actually, Professor, one of them is missing. Ron Weasley. Harry Potter isn't here, either."

Claire still didn't look up, but she could imagine, later, that a range of emotions flashed across the witch's face. "Perfects, make sure no student leaves the Common Room," was Professor McGonagall's departing words as the portrait closed behind the teacher.

Then there was a rupture of talking, just like last time Professor McGonagall entered the Common Room with news that shook them to the bone. Fred and George were still against the wall, and Claire's mind was reeling.

Quietly, she stated, "Remember what I said when Harry and Ron were fighting the troll that got in last Hallowe'en?" A pause of silence from the twins, and Claire took the moment to pick the right words, the careful words, the words that would comfort. "It's kind of like that, I guess. Harry's a brilliant wizard, and Ron's there to help. They're going to come back, and with Ginny. Trust me."

And she was right. In a matter of hours sitting on the newly emptied couch, watching the fire, listening to quiet conversations milling about, a voice reached them. Claire had left the couch a half hour earlier to switch into her pajamas, tired and not wishing to be tangled up in the morning in her robes. She wasn't the only one, because mostly everyone else was in their night clothes.

It would be like the Hallowe'en night again, the three had decided without a word being said, and they would wait until the news arrived, news of them being okay, of fighting a monster beyond their ability. The trio hardly spoke; if it weren't for the rise and fall of their chests, you wouldn't think them alive.

It was a quarter til ten when the voice rang, stating, "Every student is to come to the Great Hall." It was Dumbledore's voice, and it was filled with joy despite the situation. "A feast is in hand."

Strangely enough, everyone went down to the Great Hall, some still worried about the Heir of Slytherin and Ginny. People were in mixed states of awareness, some were half asleep, rubbing at their eyes as if to get rid of sleepiness; others were wide awake and ready. Everyone was in their pajamas.

Claire ate and ate and ate, listening intently to the information that Harry shared, telling them about what happened in the Chamber of Secrets and how Ginny was fine now and that Dumbledore had a phoenix named Fawkes and that it _healed _him, saved his life, actually.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as Fred and George and Percy's, though he secretly leaned into the conversation keeping his mouth shut for the first time Claire every witnessed, worry fell away from their face, and their smiles returned and all that had happened earlier slipped away from their mind.

The feast lasted all night, with people milling around with no more worry because the Heir of Slytherin was gone and everyone that was petrified was alive and walking, being filled in on what they missed and just simply enjoying the moment of being able to walk again after so long of stiffness.

Near the middle of the feast, Dumbledore stood up and asked for silence. "The actions of Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley tonight were great. Due to these actions, Gryffindor receives two hundred points for each of them, a solid four hundred points to Gryffindor."

An inhuman roar erupted from the Gryffindor table. It was their second year in a row of winning the House Cup, and they were, very simply, ecstatic.

McGonagall gave more wonderful news after Dumbledore sat down. "I am sure most of you would be happy to hear that the school exams have been canceled. As a school treat."

More cheers and roars flew from mouths, and not just from the Gryffindor table. People stood and hooted, laughing at the fact that they didn't have to take exams, laughing at the fact that in the end, everythig would be okay, just as many had said with a squeeze of the hand or a smile. In the end, everything would be wonderful and whole again, even if it took a long time.

It was a great end to a year of worry, of fear, and the beginning of another summer full of adventure and fun and anticipation. No one could wait until it began, and it flew by too fast, the last moments of someone Claire loved sliding through her fingertips like sand down an hourglass.


End file.
